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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1680989-Be-Sure-Next-Time
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Other · #1680989
A bad day at the morgue.
Be Sure Next Time


My eyes hurt. It was dark. Dark and cold. For so many days. At least three. Now, the white light. Big squares, and six round ones.

It's still very cold. I must be in a hospital. Naked though. I can feel it. I can't move.

Where is the nurse? It's all very quiet.

A man. No, two men. Talking, just outside. No, outside a door maybe. Muffled. Wait, one of the men is coming in. I can hear the footsteps. Dress shoes. Very clicky.

A microphone? Over my belly. What is this place? Where is that nurse? Don't they know to at least turn me over? My neck hurts bad. The pillow feels weird. Like a piece of foam or something.

The man is walking over. He's eating something. A bag of Cheetos? What kind of hospital lets them do that?

He has a white coat. A lab coat? Maybe a doctor.

OUCH! He pinched my nipple! That bastard touched me. I need help. I must move. I have to. Try to talk. I can't.

I'm crying, but no sound comes out.

No movement at all.

He's talking into that microphone. He's reaching for something. It shines. Out of my peripheral vision.

I have to move my eyes.

My god! He's cutting me! A large cut on my chest. It feels like a "T". I'm Dying. Oh my god, he's reaching into my chest... Darkness.

The door slammed open as Mark rushed in. "Robert! My god! In her clothing bag, at the bottom, A life alert tag!"

"Robert, She has narcolepsy. She wasn't dead Robert! She wasn't dead... until now."
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