...he wouldn’t have been clawing his stomach to shreds.”
The silence was thick as ice. Without seeing their faces, I knew the woman doctor was probably reeling.
“It looks like a child though,” she said at last, a little defensively. “You’ve seen the ultrasounds and the CT printouts. If it is exhibiting parasitic qualities, then why does it look so much like a human fetus?”
“Only way to know is to cut it out and see.”
“You can’t…”
“No, but with the Hospital Administration’s support, I can.”
Suddenly the male doctor was walking briskly out from behind the walls. He gave me a quick, suspect look before turning on his heels and capering down the hallway. My stomach growled, but I remained rooted to the spot for a little longer. The slight against the woman was too obvious, too reproachful. Finally, she spoke again:
“Did you hear that, Michael?” she was whispering. Even I could barely hear her. I leaned in closer and held my breath. “We don’t have much more time.”
There was a crackling sound, like a radio transmitter buzzing with static. The static broke with a beep, and a voice replied, simply: “I heard. We’ll up the Amino Acid injections.”
As hungry as I was, I knew I couldn’t leave Evan now. I turned back from the corridor, to walk back to Room 9, but before I reached it, I heard someone scream from his room. It was one of the nurses, calling for a doctor. She threw the curtain aside, revealing a bloody mess in the bed where I had left Evan. In her hand was a scalpel, dripping red from the blade.
The nurse left the door open and ran for a doctor, otherwise they probably wouldn’t have let me in. I’ve never been able to handle much gore. The whole incident with Evan clawing at his stomach was enough to leave me adequately unhinged, but I knew that he would want me to see what has happening. He wants “The Internets” to know....
09-Aug-2017 11:08:28
