Grace
My name is called, and then two men in white step out of the procedure room and take me by the underarms, one on each side. I get the sense that once I cross the threshold into that room, nothing is ever going to be the same. I question whether to go willingly, but how much of a fight can one really put up with two large men dragging you across the floor?
As it turns out, a mediocre one, at best.
The room is smaller than I thought it would be. There is an odd smell. It is a smell created by a disturbing mix of things, choking and sick. It is the smell of mildew and mold, and the smell of the melted wax that clings to the inside of a candle jar. It reeks of blood and death, mixed with the odor of urine and vomit, sweat and terror.
The room itself is pretty unremarkable, just cold
