Mary sat in the chair, unsure and scared. She took a deep breath and the nurse told her to relax. You'll be fine, the nurse said, I know it's kind of nerve-wracking but you'll get through it they all do. As the nurse said this, she gestured towards the other people in the room. They were smiling but docile.
Mary was worried that this what she would end up looking like in the future. She looked down at herself, skin still pink with color, filled with blood cells that still did what they were supposed to, then she looked up at the others in the room. They were falling asleep, looking depressed, looking upset, they looked like they knew something that she didn't and this, this made her feel worse.
She fell into herself. Into the void. Lost in thought. This can't be happening, she thought, but it is happening, she thought right after that. Quiet, silent, sad tears glided down her face. She didn't move. She let the tears roll down her face and drop onto her shirt, each drop sounding louder than the last, causing earthquakes on her chest. While inside, her heart beat the best it could, it tried. It did. And Mary felt it trying. She wished she could will herself into feeling better and more secure but she couldn't.
The nurse said something else, to get Mary's attention, but she [Mary] was staring at the door. She wanted to leave. She never wanted to be in the place again but she knew that she would be soon and again after that and again after that until she died. This was her life now. She was given a task in life and that was to hurry up and wait. And here she was, waiting, for the first time.
She told herself she'd get used to the rasp of the air-conditioner, the blur of the television screen that was 10 years too old for her to actually understand any of the visuals. She told herself she'd get used to the sleepy faces that surrounded her. But she knew she wouldn't. She never would.