A RAMPAGE OF DEATH

Today was barf day, and she had just finished scraping the last of her barf from her bowl. She had defended it with her life. She was now quite skinny, each and every rib could be counted, and her short hair had grown long. It was matted with knots that would be impossible to undo. Her skin had become paler, and her eyes had taken on the look of an animal. She was skittish, and overprotective when it came to food. She let them drag her away to the doctor, but this visit was different. They weighed her and checked her hight as usual. She was 5'4 and only ninety eight pounds. The doctor did the usual health check, checking for sickness, but this time she was whipped on the spot, then they sedated her, and she fell to a long and unrestful sleep.

When she awoke, a stream of doctors, who all looked creepily the same greeted her. They all had blond hair and gray eyes, and they all wore a long white robe, black jeans, and a black shirt. The doctor who usually examined all the prisoners wasn't in the room, so Flosi was confused. Then she looked around and realized she was in a different room.

Flosi drifted in and out of sleep for a couple of days, the doctors trying to treat the illness, either because they didn't want it to spread to the guards, or that they wanted to torture them more. A constant tube that administered pain were in the patients necks, and whenever they required to go to the bathroom, the bed would turn into a toilet.

When Flosi awoke, this time she didn't feel like drifting back. Maybe it was because it was whipping time so the tubes were giving out more pain then usual, the approximate amount of a whip, or maybe she wanted to allow herself to stay awake. For the first time she observed what she was wearing. An orange bra and underwear, the same as every other woman, while the men just wore underwear. The wall on the far side was just a large mirror, and in it she saw her matted hair, her bone white skin, and her too large eyes. She realized that the too large eyes and paled skin were from the illness, but she still looked at it and thought she had turned into a wild beast. All the other sick prisoners appeared the same, and the doctors too. She quickly converted her bed into a toilet, because she needed to go to the bathroom, then converted it back into a bed. They had no sheets, and the mattress might as well have been stone, and the pillow was basically just a thin blanket the size of a head.

She eventually fell back into the pattern of drifting in and out of sleep. She allowed herself to indulge in sleep, and day by drifting day, she got better.