Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Toxic

I didn't ask for this. Every nightmarish moment of these past six months has been against my will. I don't deserve to be treated like this. These are the lies I'd love to believe.

The unbearable truth is that I welcomed this, wanted it more than I've ever wanted anything.

Suddenly I hear the steady tap of footsteps outside my door. I freeze, not daring to take a breath until the shadow under the door passes by with stopping. The sound of the footsteps fade until I'm once again left with only the sound of my own breathing.

I wish there was a window in here. There's a facsimile of a one. It's really just a fancy screen on the wall, but it's convincing. My first week here, I thought it was real until I found the remote and miraculously transported to the alps. I can flip through just about any locale I can imagine, but my favorite is a fiery sunset over an African plain that reminds me of The Lion King. Still, I'd give them all up just to know where I am.

I'm flipping through the screens options when I hear Milo's big plodding footsteps. This time they stop outside my door, and I hear the key the turn.

"It's that time again," Milo says as he enters, a hint of sympathy in his voice. He believes in the mission like the rest, of course, but at least he has the decency to feel bad about it.

I don't respond. Milo's my favorite of the nurses, but I'm on a vow of silence kick right now. I know it won't do any good, but I feel like I have to show my defiance somehow.

Milo trudges to my bedside and asks my hold out my arm. I could make a splashier show of defiance by refusing the treatment, but I know from past experience that it's just a waste of energy. So I wordlessly hold out my arm as Milo injects the toxin into my veins. An endless second passes, and then it overtakes me.

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