Sterile

The waiting room was sterile white and had an artificial lavender scent that was trying to mask the pungent smell of adhesives. The young, pretty receptionist was sitting at her desk, doing her best to ignore the waiting patient. Emily was sitting right in front of her and couldn’t help but notice that the receptionist was perfect, everything exactly where it should be. Her straightened raven hair reached just above her cheekbones, her red lips radiated against her porcelain skin, a silver heart necklace poured out of her smooth neckline, all the while her long fingers danced majestically over the keyboard. Emily caught herself staring and averted her eyes.

Now, Emily was looking at her own hands. The skin was so pale she could see the veins underneath, which gave it an unhealthy blue tint. Emily sighed and closed her eyes. She could feel the tears begging to be free. She clasped her firsts and clenched her teeth. She would keep herself under control. A few deep breaths and she managed to chase the tears away. She opened he eyes and her hands. There were four neat indents on each of palm now. She massaged the skin trying to remove the nail crevices. It was then that she noticed a little cut on her index finger. She brought it closer to her eyes and carefully pulled on the skin. All she saw was bone. No blood, no pain, just bone and skin. It was then, of course, that the doctor peaked out of the door and called her to come in.

He was a pleasant man and a very good professional. He quickly fixed her cut and rubbed something on her palms that made them smooth again, and treated her toes, which is why she came in in the first place. After he was done, he sat in front of her and looked her in the eyes.

“You know,” he started, “I won’t be able to fix you forever.”

Emily just averted her gaze, so he continued.

“My abilities are limited to slowing down the inevitable.”

“I know.” Emily said quietly, keeping her eyes down.

“I think you need to start looking at your new life in a different way.” He moved his head to try and catch her gaze, “there are so many things you can do now. How about shark diving? A trip through the desert? Or, heck, go scare your old college roommate.”

Emily finally smiled.

“You know,” he continued, “without a working regeneration system, I can only glue things back together, but they will never heal, never become whole again. That’s the price we pay.”

“I know.” She replied quietly, “I just never thought being undead would show itself so quickly.”