The Black Rose
Entry 10

Strapped to a white medical gurney, sweat dripped from my brow as I watched the largest needle I had ever seen move way too close to my hand. I winced as the needle glided effortlessly through the skin.

“Now, you might feel a slight burning sensation, but that’s to be expected,” Dr. Swartz explained. “The transfusion should take approximately two hours; however, the first twenty-four hours are critical. If successful, it should take the cocktail approximately three to four weeks to complete the transformation.”

I gulped as his eyes glinted. He lived for this. I just hoped I lived. Period.

I suddenly suffered the “slight” burning sensation Doc was talking about, which felt more like lava being pumped through my veins. My hands clenched, gripping the sheets tight. Luckily my hand and foot straps kept me tethered to this gurney, otherwise, I would’ve ripped that giant ass needle from my arm and ran as fast as I could out of this place.

“Easy now,” Dr. Swartz cooed. “You should adjust soon.”

“Slight sensation?” I gruffed, my teeth clenched tight as the sensation spread up my arms and throughout my entire body. The blue cocktail felt like cement as it snaked it’s way to every corner of my body.

“Is it better to be surprised then told the truth?” he smirked.

I guess I couldn’t argue with him there. The truth did suck. This sucked. After the longest five minutes of my life, the burning sensation subsided, but then came nausea, which according to Dr. Swartz was to be expected. Cold sweat dripped from my forehead as I worsened. My body temperature swung like a pendulum from searing heat to arctic chills. I threw up, passed out, threw up some more, slept some more, was poked and prodded, and bathed, but I didn’t die, at least yet.

“What time is it?” I moaned between the lull of a particularly gruesome spell.

“It’s ten pm,” Dr. Swartz glanced down at his wristwatch. “You’ve been in this for fourteen hours now, another ten to go and I think it will be safe to release the straps and breathe a little.”

I groaned. Another ten hours was torture. I needed a distraction. As he moved to switch my fluid bag, which was my fourth so far, I blurted, “Say Doc, now that there’s no turning back, between you and me, how many have survived this?”

His eyes dropped slightly, and he glanced left at the corner wall where the miniature camera beamed down like an incognito UFO, then back to me. “In the spirit of truth-telling,” he smiled warmly, “None.”

My lips pressed firmly together and my head sunk deeper into the pillow. “Didn’t we have a mutual understanding about the truth,” I moaned?

“I felt this one better left undressed,” he smiled faintly.

“And who lasted the longest?” I rasped with sharp breaths, my eyes following him.

“The last patient lasted eighteen hours before...he died,” Dr. Swartz muttered, defeated.

Suddenly I wanted to survive more than ever. My instincts, my drive, my wheels began to turn. I had never actively participated in sports, but I was sure the competitiveness would translate. I wanted to live. I wanted to see what was on the other side.

“I’ll make it,” I looked at him with a defiant expression.

“I hope so. I’m afraid it isn’t only your life in jeopardy,” he hesitated, biting his lip.

“I’m sorry, I fear I’ve said too much,” he shook his head, standing. I grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t go,” I mumbled. He sat back down, my hand feeling clammy and cold against his skin.

We shared a room full of eerie silence, each of us fighting our own battles. Mine was currently trying to kill me cell by cell from the inside out.

“What is this stuff doing to me?” I turned my head toward the quiet doctor after about an hour of stewed silence.

“It’s a chemical cocktail of bacterial components, mostly CRISPR, and sugars that are high-jacking your cell’s functions. Those miraculous CRISPR components are splicing your genes at strategic, prerecorded spots. The new genes we’re inserting, as you know, will begin to rebuild stronger, more efficient, smarter in a way. The cells that produce bone minerals will work to strengthen your bones. Cells that control motor function and muscular reparations will begin to heighten and strengthen. Every system in your body should, in theory, become stronger, more efficient, and for lack of a better term, as close to perfect as possible.”

“And my eyes?” I rasped.

“They should be green as requested. A flicker of hope washed over me. One of the bright spots to this sadistic science experiment was I got to choose my new eye color. I chose sparkling green, like Annie’s.

A new wave of pain washed over me. I gripped the sheets bracing for the new wave of regeneration. “I think I can feel them strengthening,” I choked.

“Just hold on,” Dr. Swartz trailed as I faded into blackness...

“Danielle, Danielle...”

My eyes burst open as I took a massive breath. I panicked, unsure as to where I was, I fought the restraints that held me down for the past several hours. I lifted my right hand up and the restraint came with it. My left hand followed and that restraint snapped.

“Danielle, it’s okay,” I heard a voice command soothingly. “You’re okay, just calm down.”

My eyes adjusted to the flickering hospital lights. I remembered. I’m in a creepy laboratory. I was injected with blue mystery water. I said goodbye to my past. “What, what time is it?” I gasped. My mouth parched. I stumbled back down sitting on the bed with a thump.

“It’s hour twenty-five,” Dr. Swartz’s familiar face came into view beaming.

“You made it,” he grinned wide. “I wasn’t sure there for a while, you remained unconscious for the rest. Here, let me look at you,” he offered, eyeing me cautiously. The restraints which easily held me down mere hours ago dangled by my wrists. I was strong. Opening and closing my fists, I felt different, reborn.

Dr. Swartz shined his little light in my eyes, “Marvelous,” he breathed.

“What?” I asked, exasperated.

“Your pupils react so quickly to stimuli, and your eye color is indeed green.”

“What? Let me see.”

Dr. Swartz handed me a surgical tray and I held it in front of my face. My mouth dropped. My eyes did change. They were now a bright green instead of that murky gray-blue color before. My skin was smooth, baby soft, pale, and without freckles or any blemishes.

“Holy shit,” I exhaled. “Did it work?”

Startled, Dr. Swartz, and I both turned towards the double-sided glass on the far wall. I was being watched still. Dr. Swartz nodded his head, “Yes, I presume so. We need more tests.”

I gulped. More tests.

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