too late at night, too tired to sleep

too scared to think clearly

the intercom beeps

they’re not calling me, so i lie still here

in the dimly-lit darkness and the stale sterile air

i smell on my hands the scent of the gloves

latex and bleach mixed with vomit and blood

i remember his face when he asked, will i die?

but i don’t remember when he started to cry

but i could see hers though i couldn’t see mine

and when it was over, i heard the clock chime

two o’clock, it said proudly. two am and all’s well

now let’s replay the past hour eighty times

this is hell.


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