I woke, in a cold sweat. This wasn't the cramped room I was used to. I tried to sit up on my elbows so I could get myself a better look around, but my arms, legs,and torso had all been strapped down tight by ordinary everyday belts. The only moveable part of my body was my neck and my head. I turned my head in every possible way so that I could piece together where I was. The walls and floors were both concrete. There was a door on the other side of the room that had a keypad. I was no longer wearing the clothes that I had been wearing when I came to the hospital, but a loose hospital gown. As I laid on the operating table, I looked over at the table next to me. Too far out of reach, but close enough that I could see the contents on the table.
Tongue depressors, scissors, needles, staples, thread, and many other tools that doctors would use. Normally, in a hospital setting, a patient would be fine seeing these items without panicking. But this was no normal hospital setting and the tools appeared different than other's. There was a reddish brown color covering a majority of the tools. Rust? No. The tongue depressors and cotton swabs couldn't have rusted. And then I came to the scary realization, it was blood. And it wasn't mine.
I heard a cry from upstairs. I listened for a few seconds. This could tell me where I was. An infant. The infant cried and cried. Where could I be where there'd be babies nearby? And then I truly thought of the answer to the question that I had just asked myself. If my hands hadn't had been strapped down, I would've hit myself on the forehead. I was still in.... no, underneath the hospital. I screamed. My throat was parched. It hurt to scream. But I knew that if I didn't, it'd be more than just my throat that hurt. I heard a commotion above. Had they heard me? Or was it simply something else? 'I shouldn't risk losing this opportunity'. I thought. So I mustered all my strength and channeled it into a scream that could be heard across the country. Little did I know, that the door with the padlock had been opened. And out stepped Jack. He wore scrubs.
"My, my. You've been one naughty patient". He came towards me slowly. One foot after the other. A shiver ran down my spine for every step he took. "Would a sticker make you feel any better?" He sat on the operating table, and looked down at me after he reached into a drawer and grabbed a page of large stickers that patients normally get. I let out another scream. I knew what he intended to do with that sticker. "What's that? You like this one?" He peeled off a sticker with a smiley face that read 'best patient'. He placed it over my mouth, so that it was completely covered. I tried screaming again, but it was no use. My cries were muffled by the sticker.
"Now, let's get to work". He reached into the same drawer. I may not have had been able to say anything, but my eyes pleaded. He pulled out two blue latex gloves. After he had put one on, he stretched back the the glove as far as it would reach and let it go. Snap. He did the same with the other glove. And as he stretched back the other glove, he turned to me. "Don't worry, this'll only hurt a lot". Snap. I heard his laughter as he placed a rubber mask over my nose. He turned a knob, and soon the mask was filled with gas.
'I can't breathe this in'. I thought. But since breathing through my mouth was out of the question, I had no choice. I held out for as long as I could, which was less than two minutes. Everything felt heavy, and my world began to spin. But somehow, I found everything at the moment, funny. The gas was still on. Tears filled my view as I laughed uncontrollably and as Jack neared me with the blood covered scissors. My forced laughter hurt my throat. And as I went in and out of consciousness, I remember seeing Jack and two other people hovering around me with several operating tools. "This might pinch a little". Said Jack. But the thing that I'll never forget, was the haunting forced laughter that echoed throughout the room. My own.
I woke later. My head was still spinning, but I was no longer laughing. My lips were cracked, and my throat hurt to even attempt to speak. I moved my arms to attempt to unstrap myself from the table. The belts were gone. I was no longer strapped down . I sat up quickly, as a headache soon followed. I jumped off the table and went for one of the tools on the table. A pair of scissors. The hospital gown I had worn felt rather airy. I then went to the door with the padlock. But just as I reached it, it opened. There stood Jack.
"My, oh my. I didn't think that our little patient would be up so early". He grabbed me by the hair. I willed for my hair to change from long to short. But all I got was a headache.... no, not a headache. More of a migraine than anything else. I still clutched the scissors in my hand as a last resort. "Our little appointment, isn't quite over".