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Her Eyes

when she gets paid, true religion gets it all, if they fit right.

A light was shined in her eyes, moving first to the right, then to the left. It was switched off and before the purple and yellow spots had a chance to fade from her vision, a wooden stick was forced into her mouth and she was told to speak. She complied, but for the sole reason that she didn’t care anymore.
The doctor placed a metal box in front of her and walked over to the connected computer. She placed her hand on the box and proceeded to tap her fingers against the sensitive plexi glass. There was no noise in the room for almost a minute, save for the soft padding of flesh against glass.
“Alright. You can stop.” The doctor moved the box out from under her grasp and looked at the computer screen, frowning. She knew that look. Her reflexes were decreasing. The doctor told her what she had just told herself and then left, saying that a nurse would be in soon to start her treatment.
The door clicked shut and Mason O’Rear sighed. She hated days like this. Days when the doctors decided to vocalize what she already knew.
The door opened again and a nurse beckoned Mason to follow her down the hall to the trial room. It was a long room, painted a dark brown, and lined with individual lounge chair-and-IV stand couplets. She took her usual seat, facing the window that showed the Emergency Room and looked over at Mary Howard. Mary was 33, 8 years older than Mason, and her condition was to the point that she could not drink a glass of water without spilling it on herself. Months ago Mason had begged her doctor to switch her appointment time, claiming that facing the present of her illness was hard enough without have to see the future of it, also, but he refused, telling her that he had no control over the time.
It had taken Mason a long time, and to that day she still wouldn’t admit it, but she was impressed with Mary and how she coped with her illness. Mary had cut her hair so she wouldn’t rip it out, she wore loose clothing so it wouldn’t tear when she moved, she had given up on contacts and makeup. And those were things Mason couldn’t do.
She flinched when she felt the nurse’s cold fingers pad up the flesh of her arm. She watched calmly as the needle pierced her skin and the nurse taped the port to her arm. She looked at the clear liquid dripping down through the tube and sat back, plugging  in her headphones and closing her eyes.
Mason never slept during her treatment, he faked it. It was her coping mechanism, and she’d been doing is since she received her spot in the trial. It was her schedule. But no amount of normalcy could prepare her for what was about to happen.
The double doors of the Emergency Room swung open and a gurney rolled in, followed by two blonde boys and an old man. Mason sat up in her chair and watched the quartet walk down the hall.
She couldn’t deny the fact that she was intrigued. Through all the hours she had spent at that hospital, she had never seen anything that had made her leave the trial room, but there she was, unscrewing the IV and walking out the door. That was her first mistake.
She walking in the same direction the men had walked just moments before, hoping she didn’t get lost. There was no way she could have gotten lost, though, because she heart three male voices almost immediately.
“Jordan, lay back down! You passed out.” She watched as a very muscular boy got off the gurney and stumble towards her.
“I’m fine, let me go.” He mumbled. Mason watched the boy and she came to the same conclusion as everyone else in the room. He wasn’t fine. He took another step and fell forward.
And that was her second mistake. She caught him.





easydoesit. easydoesit.

Love it. Please post

Futuremrs__ Futuremrs__

when are you going to post the end of this story?

Gigipens Gigipens

This is brilliant!

Aleiksa Aleiksa


hockaayy hockaayy