Blood | Teen Ink

Blood

April 17, 2008
By Anonymous

I was afraid of what my reaction might be. Would it make me sick, or would it form into a sickening lust?

We had gone back to the car to get the time card. By the time we got it and turned it in to the woman at the desk, they called me in. I was nervous and hungry, not the best combination for what I was about to do.

The girl told me to sit as she put on blue latex gloves and got everything ready.

“Are you nervous?” she asked

“A little.” I replied

All I could think was,” how would I react?” I looked at my mom then back to the girl. She had three vile out and a needle with a thin tube connected to it.

“Okay, are you ready?” the girl had finished swabbing my arm with alcohol.

“Yeah.”

She got a tourniquet and tied it around my arm, and felt for the vein. She grabbed the needle and stuck it in, then put on the first vile.

I stared as the blood went through the tube and into the vile. I didn’t feel sick, I actually felt more hungry than anything else despite the obvious. The blood flowing through the tube reminded me of Twizzlers…I was famished. By now, the girl had switched to the second vile. For now all that was bothersome was the tourniquet, it made my arm feel like it was going to burst from all the pressure. That would be a mess.

“Are you doing okay, Iris?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I kept my eyes on the blood, it looked like a lot. Now she switched to the third vile. More? Now I was worried that I’d end up like my mom did- pass out and then get a bruise the covering the whole arm. I blinked that out of mind, and then it was over.
The girl proceeded to remove the tourniquet, what a relief, then the needle. That was it. No horrible reaction, just a building hunger. The whole experience wasn’t bad at all; however, the tourniquet was surprisingly the most painful part. On the other hand I was glad it was all over.

“See! You didn’t get sick, or go crazy.” my mom said as we walked out of the room.

“Yeah, but I’m really hungry. The blood in that tube looked like Twizzlers.” I replied

“…You’re weird.”

“I know,” I smiled, “but what can I do about that. Now, let’s get some McDonald’s!”

With all that said and done a new fear started to arise, something that disturbs me still. What would the test results say?


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