Chapter Seven
Julie's Point of View
I opened my eyes, welcomed by a pitch-black darkness swallowing the corners of the room.
I didn't know how many hours had passed, nor where we stood on the hands of time; had morning arrived, or were we still in the gloom of night? This place felt exactly like outer space—lost in its void where you can never perceive time.
Suddenly, the door opened and the room lights flickered on to reveal the features of the "vampire" who looked like a nurse. She stood there coldly, holding a metal tray in her hands that reflected the harsh light of the lamps.
She approached my bed with silent footsteps that could barely be heard, placed her metal tray on the small table with deliberate roughness, then looked at me and said:
"Good morning, I see you have removed the bandage, and this is unacceptable behavior."
I asked her in a voice overcome by sleepiness and disorientation:
"What time is it?"
She did not turn to me; instead, she was busy pouring disinfectant onto cotton, and answered me coldly:
"It is eight o'clock in the morning."
She placed the wet cotton on my face, and a wave of coldness washed over me, followed by a stinging burn that made me grit my teeth.
She applied an ointment with her cold hands, then stuck a new bandage firmly while saying:
"Do not remove it, otherwise the wound will fester."
I said to her,
"Can I get clean clothes? I didn't find anything to wear in this closet."
She carried her metal tray and moved toward the door, saying,
"I am not responsible for this,"
then she left.
The bandage was pulling at my skin, making my face contract, and my hair, which was still damp, caused a pain inside my head.
I got up from the bed and felt a sharp hunger gnawing at my intestines, but the food in the cart had become very cold and was inedible.
I pulled the blanket and hugged my knees to my stomach tightly, as if I were trying to silence the hunger gnawing inside me.
The door opened again and Olivia entered the room with the scent of vanilla that made me nauseous.
She looked at me and said,
"Haven't you had enough sleep yet? Come on, get up."
I put the blanket over my face to avoid seeing her and said from underneath it,
"Get out."
I felt the blanket being pulled off me violently, and she said,
"Get up now, you have an appointment with the doctor."
I was shocked. What doctor was she talking about? And did this place include doctors too? I got up from the bed and stood before her with all the strength I had left and said,
"I am not sick."
She glanced at my clothes and then said, smiling sarcastically,
"What is this state you are in? Your clothes are dirty and your hair is wet, you truly look like a wild sow."
I said,
"Excuse me, I had no prior knowledge so that I could pack my bags."
Her face scowled and her eyes narrowed as she said,
"Let's go outside."
The door opened to reveal two guards standing there like dams, then she turned to me with impatience:
"I will not wait for you here forever, come on, move."
I walked behind her submissively, like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse.
The sound of Olivia's heels played again on the marble, while the two guards followed us from behind with their heavy steps.
We walked down the hallway until we stopped at a door made of shiny chrome; Olivia reached out her hand and opened the door.
The room looked exactly like a doctor's office—a real clinic in all its details, to the point that I opened my mouth in astonishment.
The room was drowned in a stark whiteness that almost blinded the eyes; the walls were polished as if they were a mirror, and the atmosphere was saturated with the smell of disinfectants and Dettol that pierced my nose strongly to erase the foul smell of vanilla.
In the corner, there was an examination bed covered with clean white paper that creaked with every breath of air, and beside it was a metal table on which medical tools were laid out, shiny and arranged with terrifying geometric precision.
It wasn't just a doctor's room; it looked like a laboratory equipped with extreme care in the middle of this desolate place.
Sitting behind a wide wooden desk was a woman in her mid-forties, wearing a snow-white coat that didn't have a single fold.
Her features were eerily calm, and her blonde hair was tied back so tightly that not a single strand was allowed to escape; she wore medical glasses with a thin gold frame that gleamed under the strong desk light.
Olivia finally spoke and said:
"This is Julie, the new girl. Please perform all the necessary check-ups."
The blood froze in my veins; what check-ups was this madwoman talking about? Do they want to take my organs now because of my rebellion? Is this the price I will pay?
I asked her, with features of terror painted on my face:
"What check-ups? What do you want to do to me?"
The doctor stood up calmly and approached me, then said in a tone void of emotion:
"Hello Julie, I am Dr. Nicole Holmes. I will just perform some routine tests for you, such as determining your blood type and a comprehensive analysis to know if you suffer from any disease or problem."
Olivia replied to her in a commanding tone:
"I want her medical file ready by evening,"
then she turned and left, leaving me alone with the doctor in that suffocating silence.
The two guards remained inside, stiff as idols by the door. I felt a lump in my throat; their presence here was not innocent—it was because of me, because of the trouble I caused yesterday.
They reminded me at every moment that I was not a patient in a clinic, but a prisoner under guard.
The doctor pointed her hand toward the cold medical bed and said, painting a calm smile that did not reach her eyes:
"Please Julie, lie down here."
I could not discern the secret of her smile; she was acting like a real doctor—professional and cold.
I stepped forward with heavy steps and lay on the bed, while she pulled a swivel chair and sat beside me.
She began disinfecting my hand coldly, then wrapped a rubber band around my arm and tightened it with a force that made my veins bulge.
Before I could gather my wits, she inserted the needle skillfully and blood began to flow into the tube.
She looked at me and smiled again as she pulled the needle out quietly and said:
"We are finished."
She stuck a small bandage on my hand, then continued in the same calm tone that froze the blood in my veins:
"Now, take off your clothes."
I was under the shock of those words; even my tongue was tied inside my mouth, and my ears did not believe what they heard!
How could she ask me to take off my clothes in front of her, and with two strange guards in the room? What kind of examination is this that a doctor performs, for heaven's sake? I felt a humiliation I had never experienced before, and that every cell in my body refused to comply with this shameful order.
She repeated her request again without a shred of shame, and with a coldness that provoked every nerve in my body, she said:
"Julie, take off your clothes."
Here, I felt a volcano of anger boiling in my depths, as if it were about to explode. I screamed at her, having finally regained my voice:
"Excuse me! And why should I take off my clothes? What kind of examination is this that requires me to be naked before you and before these people?"
She looked at me and smiled again... damn that cursed smile! It had become provocative and disgusting to me.
She said with total coldness:
"I want to see if there are any deformities in your body, and also... to check your virginity."
Her words fell upon me like whips; I felt as if the ground were swaying beneath me. Had they reached this level of violation?
I sat up on the bed forcefully, looked directly into her eyes, and said in a tone as sharp as a blade:
"There are deformities in your mind, doctor, I advise you to treat them immediately!"
Then I jumped off the bed trying to leave, but I didn't get far; the two guards stood before me like two towering mountains, blocking my path and preventing me from reaching the door, as if telling me with their silence that there was no escape from this hell.
The doctor's voice echoed from behind me, firm as a gunshot:
"Julie, do not make me use force with you."
I looked at the two guards crouching before me like a nightmare, then let out a desperate laugh and turned to her; her face had completely lost the mask of perfection and turned into the face of a bloodthirsty butcher.
I said to her in a voice trying to remain steady:
"Do you really want me to take off my clothes in front of these men?"
I was trembling internally at the thought of her drugging me with that needle, so I would fall helpless and she would strip me before these monsters... I had to calm down, to think intelligently, and not be led by my madness which might cost me what remained of my dignity.
She replied to me with a deadly coldness, as if she were talking about boring paperwork:
"This is the protocol, Julie, you cannot be left alone here."
Her words clearly meant that my privacy had no value, and that the presence of these monsters was not a coincidence, but part of their system designed to break me.
I nodded my head in agreement, pretending to surrender, and said in a low voice:
"Yes, I understand... but can they at least turn their backs? I am very shy."
I saw her point to them with her finger, so they turned to face the wall. I approached her while holding my shirt as if I were going to lift it, but my hand extended like lightning toward the scalpel placed on the metal table.
I did not risk putting it to her neck, for her strong build might enable her to snatch it from me easily, so I did the most insane thing; I pointed the sharp scalpel directly at my own face, and said in a tone filled with defiance:
"Mr. Robert will go mad when the face he spent all his money on is disfigured, won't he?"