After thinking about it, I decided to revise and basically totally rewrite "Experiment". Now it's from the doctor's point of view. If you haven't read "Experiment" don't feel like you have to. This is almost completely different and doesn't have much relation to the older version. Let me know what you think. Here's the first bit.
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Jack Stevens - an ordinary, common name, but a name that I despise. I hadn't minded it until recently, when I had destroyed an innocent girl's life. Taken it from her very hands and turned it inside-out.
She had been in for surgery. I was assigned to perform it. I never thought anything would go so wrong, but it did.
As soon as the surgery was done, she had been wheeled to a solitary room. The surgery was a dangerous, new performance and we weren't sure how it had gone. The girl no longer seemed a normal patient. It was a nerve-wracking test of skill, working around her network of nerves and trying to fix her. The time was so long ago, now, that I can hardly remember what we were trying to do in the first place.
I had tried so hard to just forget everything having to do with that day. The girl was put in my care. It made me feel guilty to just walk down the white, polished hallways. I felt like a failure, like I didn't belong in a place where people worked hard to save lives when all I had done was destroy one. There was nowhere I could hide, except home. Except I couldn't go home. At home I felt like a coward, hiding. So at the hospital, I spent most of my time in the corner of the private office I'd been assigned. If I hadn't possibly permanently damaged a girl, I might have enjoyed getting my own office. There were five other doctors helping me try to formulate a pill that might help her. We had even called in a few scientists, but the case was entirely new to them. They didn't know what to do and they weren't as familiar with the different medicines as we were. So the girl didn't get better. The pills didn't seem to do anything, no matter how many combinations we tried. It took all our skills to try to make the right formula. But no one had ever seen such a thing as this.
Sometimes the pills didn't sit right in her stomach and she would empty her stomach without any emotion - of course. I would come in to clean it up and she would be dangling over the side of the bed, her face pale and blank, her eyes shut and her breathing even. She couldn't even feel when she got sick. So she never felt bad or had any warning.
Her name was April Williams. Her hair was a dark, shiny mass of curls and waves. Her lips were thin and chapped, the skin peeling. Her mouth never moved and her lips never smiled. Her eyes were a deep amber. They were always unfocused and I had to continually remind her to blink so her eyes didn't dry out.
The worst part about the whole thing was the way she would just lie there, staring at nothing. Her eyes were glazed over and she never had any reaction. She was like an empty shell.
A few months has passed since the surgery. It had almost been a year now. There wasn't much sightings of a change on the weather. Her eyes were a little clearer, but she still wouldn't talk to me. For some reason, I knew that she could understand me. Her mind was clear, but she was confused. She didn't understand what had happened to her.
The damage to her nerves had effected her brain, as well. We had done a few tests on her and it seemed that her memory had been damaged a little bit. This was further proved when her parents had first visited right after she had woken up from the surgery. There was no recognition on her face, her eyes were dull and she simply stared at them, her face completely blank.
Her parents had been horrified and I had ushered them away quickly so they wouldn't startle her. Except she couldn't feel startled. She couldn't feel anything.
The guilt had hung on my shoulders for so long that I was almost accustomed to it. If we never fixed her, April would be in the hospital for the rest of her life, living a dull and uneventful life. It would probably be better if she didn't live at all. But as long as she wasn't getting any better, we had no choice but to keep her here. Setting her into the world without any sensations of feeling - especially pain - would be far too dangerous. She could very easily kill herself.
I didn't know how much longer I could take this, but I couldn't give up. That was out of the question.
Today, I go in to check on her. She's lying there, staring at the ceiling. It seems like she barely sleeps. She doesn't feel the need to.
Just imagine how it must be. Getting burnt beyond repair but you can't feel it. Getting cut deeply, but not even noticing that you're injured. Not noticing that you bleed. I guess you would always seem numb. You wouldn't feel numb, you would just seem numb. Of course, you wouldn't feel sorrow, but you wouldn't be able to feel love or happiness, either. You're a hollow body.
As I step closer to the bed, her eyes move instinctively towards the sound of approach. I wish that just once I could see the girl that she was before the surgery. Smiling and shining eyes, her hair brushed, her face expressive. I wish that she would have a reaction to me. To anyone. Her parents, the other doctors, the hospital food, anything.
Of course, she has no reaction to me or anything else. I can't help but be disappointed. This morning, I come with a new pill.
April fixes me with her steady gaze. Her eyes bore into my very soul. They're empty and expressionless, dead. It's like I've killed the girl inside of her, and maybe I have.
"Good morning, April," I say. My voice sounds raspy to my ears. I don't know why I bother talking to her when I know there's no way she'll every answer me.
Her mouth opens, although I know she doesn't notice this. It's like she's trying to talk, but nothing comes out of her mouth. A thin shine of droll rolls down her chin. I hastily wipe it up with a cloth. Her eyes try to follow my hands, to see what I'm doing.
She continues to watch as I pull the pill from a small paper packet and then open her mouth wider, shove it in on her tongue and hold her mouth firmly closed. When it seems that she's swallowed, I release her and wait. Even though I know that there will never be an immediate reaction, I can't help but hope for one.
I sit on the edge of the bed and gently touch her elbow in a compassionate way. She can't feel it and she's stopped watching me. Her eyes are closed and she's completely unaware that I'm even sitting on the end of her bed. I wonder if she's tired before I remember that would be impossible for her.
"I'm so sorry, April," I whisper. If she's not already asleep, I know she can hear me.
Our tests have revealed that all her other senses have been maximized. The human body is a wonder.
I don't know how much time passes while I sit and watch her.
A knock on the open door makes me jump. I immediately glance at the sleeping April, worried I've disturbed her, but of course I haven't.
Dr. Carry is standing in the doorway.
"Is she sleeping?" she whispers a little too loudly.
I glare at her. I've never been too fond of Dr. Carry. I don't think she'll ever let me forget my mistakes. Quickly, before she can wake April up, I rush to pull her back out of the room, shutting the door softly behind me.
"Yes, of course she's sleeping," I hiss at her. She only smiles at me in that sickening way. I can't stand her red-smeared lips curling over her perfect teeth.
"How's the work been going?"
"Great." I want her to get out of here, to go home and leave me alone. I want to go back to watching over April.
"If you ever need a break, you know where to find me," she says with a wink.
I feel like puking.
Dr. Carry walks away, her dark pumps clicking on the floor.
I roll my eyes and sigh before going back inside. April's awake. I silently curse Dr. Carry and her annoying nature.
"How are you feeling, April?" I ask. It's not until the words come out of my mouth that I realize how they sound. I internally kick myself for being so stupid. April doesn't have any reaction to my words, of course. I wonder if she has reactions in her mind.
The girl closes her eyes. I decide to let her get her rest in peace and leave again, closing the door behind me again.
My eyelids feel heavy and my mouth opens in a wide yawn. Maybe I'll take the rest of the day off.
Leaving the hospital and April always gives me a jittery, anxious feeling as if bugs are crawling around under my skin. As if something bad will happen while I'm away or even something amazingly unreal. Like a smile lighting up her face, but that only happens in my dreams - literally. I dream about April almost every night and think about her every day. She takes up all my time and I guess that's my payment for getting her in this mess in the first place.
Most of my dreams about her are terrible nightmares. Splatters of blood and clipped nerves. My subconscious only dares to replay the surgery while I'm dead to the world. I think I would go crazy if I let the surgery haunt me in my waking hours, as well.
