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“Yes, I heard you had finally gotten past that. “For what? You haven’t done anything wrong.” No sound but slow breaths emulated from his lips. “Now, Michael.” One was quiet in his corner. “You two are going to close up in no time. She had a gruesome backside similar to Harold’s with the exception that her left gash was roughly half the length. I’m ready to go,” she said, almost in tears. “Your turn, Mariah.” Three squeaked at the mention of her name. I’m very impressed.” Harold hummed in response. With his index finger, he softly tugged at a stitch in the middle of the left gash. They smiled up at him with mud red lips and wicked green teeth. He bent over two large stitched gashes in the man’s back. Slowly, Cambridge wheeled the bed into open space. Cambridge checked a box on his list and scribbled a note. “You have not met the Lord yet, my friend,” replied Cambridge, his voice conditioned for repetition, “I am Doctor Cambridge. “I’m ready to go,” said Three with the voice of a lost child.Ĭambridge walked over to Two’s bed. Not a tune but one monotone note at inconsistent intervals, like the buzzing of a fly. One’s bed was positioned so that his head was in the far right corner. Two and Three had had their beds moved close to each other to the left. “Katy tells me that we’re feeling better.” Each of them was shirtless and laid face down, their heads propped by toilet-seat shaped cushions as though they were awaiting massages. “Good Afternoon,” he said to his suffering patients. The only decorations were three tormented souls strapped onto beds. On the far right wall was a set of metal shelves on which sat various bottles and tools. The walls were beige and the lights were bruise blue. It was a room about the size of a high school classroom. Inside, he met the same scene he’d been facing for twelve years. SCREENIT HAND OVER NOSE MOUTH CODEHe stepped in and typed the code backwards it resealed and sounded a lower note. A high tone indicated that it was unlocked. He typed 561008 into the keypad on the door and listened to the tumblers greet him with their usual pattern. SCREENIT HAND OVER NOSE MOUTH SERIESHe made his way down the familiar series of halls until he came to a thick metal door with one small window under it was a faded sign that once showed a picture of two blue gloves and a surgical mask on a plane of bright warning yellow. “Wonderful.” He rubbed his eyes and gathered a pair of latex gloves and a clipboard. One seems to have given up trying to convince us that he’s giving birth to piranhas. SCREENIT HAND OVER NOSE MOUTH SKIN“The skin on Two and Three has become strong enough to take the stitching. “ 60 minutes called,” Carol said to her computer as he entered the white air of his office, “they want to do a piece on you.” Grey hairs turned their middle fingers toward him from between his neck and chin. The weary, old thirty-seven-year-old man in the hazy mirror walked towards him and began to wash his hands, staring at him through pink eyes that the skin of his face seemed to be attempting to run from. He blew his last solitary breath of the day and quietly snuck out of the stall. The pipes that crossed over themselves along the wall emitted an ambient hum of water that had always played tricks on his mind in this darkness. ![]() He used to wish his hiding place wasn’t so dim. He sat back, gave a low sigh, and looked up at the lights. He sat in the stall that had been his hiding place every day from noon to three o’clock in a bathroom on the third floor of the Bacharach Institute for Rehabilitation. In his mind, his eyes opened, and he was in the past. He sailed them with his eyes, back and forth to every corner, until the lids dropped and brought one of his final serene slumbers. He scratched his neck and lay back, deciding he’d rather face the broken ceiling than his impatient silhouette. It stared at him, waiting for an explanation, a justification of his decision. His shadow sat before him as still as if it were a part of the grey orchid wallpaper. ![]() The sun behind him provided the only dim light in the room. He sat on a mattress so old it felt like a stack of paper towels. There was no telling what would happen next, how long it would be before the last life in him was drained. If he survived long enough, he would reach a point where his muscles no longer followed his brain’s commands. Or, at least, that was the longest he’d ever seen them grow. There would be two running from his shoulder blades down the length of his torso. Here, the gashes would be by far the largest. This, of course, would be extremely painful. Eventually, it would not be able to hold itself together, and in places, it would split apart like gills on a fish. ![]() From there, it would take anywhere from a week to a month before his skin would begin to soften. In roughly three days, the hallucinations would begin. ![]()
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