The Cure

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She pushed her black metal-rimmed glasses further up her nose as she hastily shook on her primer white lab coat. The scientist licked her chap lips with nervousness when she thought over what she was about to do. The Fluorescent lights burned her blood-shot eyes. She yawned, tired from three sleepless nights in a lab in an undisclosed location. She was anticipating this moment with such excitement before, but now she got butterflies in her stomach every time she thought about what brain-crazed patient would be receiving the prototype cure.


Of course, this was not our first attempt at a solution to this newly discovered brain syndrome. A lot like schizophrenia or other hallucinations, it caused the mind to misinterpret its surrounding. They discovered, however, that it was bacterial in nature and somewhat contagious. Thus, it needed to be cured ASAP. All other human trials before this had been rather “sad” learning experiences. After having cross-examined the results of all previous trials with a fine-tooth comb, they deducted that the chemicals in the antibiotic and those released by the pathogen caused a chain reaction in the body systems. This shut down parts of the brain and major organs, ultimately killing the host. They were feeling good today, though.


The scientist skimmed over her clipboard notes, trying to reassure her silent doubts. She whipped her head around to the closing of a steel door. Beyond a slab of six inch thick bullet proof glass, a man and woman walked into an obnoxiously bright-lit room, with only a steel table bolted to the floor in the way of furnishing. The man, sterile with cliche white scrubs and brown hair, had been one of the doctors who had tirelessly labored over the project. The woman was quite the sight for sore eyes when she thrashed into the room, arms hand-cuffed behind her back. She wore a blood stained wash-and-wear sundress and no shoes on her calloused, bare feet. Her bleach blonde hair was a rats nest on her head and her pupils were dilated due to stress. She was breathing heavily as the doctor managed to take her blood pressure and vital signs.


“Are we ready, miss?” The man’s voice echoed through a speaker on the other side of the glass.


“As ready as we’ll every be,” The scientist said, forcing her voice to sound as calm as possible. She filled a five milliliter syringe with antidote and passed it through a drawer to the experimentation room. She shut her eyes tightly and listened to the woman’s deranged, ear-splitting cry as the doctor pinned her to the table and forced the shot in her arm. He dashed out of the room to observe to horrific scene from behind the safety of the glass panel. The woman had a seizure and finally collapsed to the ground with a heart attack, to spare the details. Tears swelled up like floor waters in the scientist’s eyes.


“She was going to die either way you sliced it,” The doctor said solemnly as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.


“I know,” she managed to choke out through the sobs,”But she was my sister”.





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