In the Morning we will be Dead

They gave me something to make me sleep while it was still light outside. I guess they put on the restraints after I nodded off. Everyone on the ward has them now. They must be worried about convulsions or something.

I haven’t seen a nurse or a doctor since I woke up. I can see someone out in the hall, strapped to a gurney. They must be slammed.

I feel awful. Can’t call out, throat’s too dry. The woman two beds over was complaining all day yesterday. Now she’s just moaning. And she looks…

What if they can’t cure us?

***
Title by: Joaquin Lynch
Story by: David
Illustration by: Nuno Pereira

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Undo

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