Starchy sheets. White walls. And people in scrubs moving their mouths. My ears were ringing, then stopped. And then the voices came. Light off. Light on. “Mallory.” A woman with wisps of red hair falling into her face was leaning over me. She turned her head to the side and said, “Run a full tox screen.” When she stepped back, I saw there were other types of uniforms in the room. The dark-blue kind, with gold shields. She cleared her throat and said, “You’ll have to wait your turn.” A man started to protest but she raised her hand up, palm out. “First of all, we make sure she’s lucid. Second of all, and you should know this already, you wait for her parents.” I started to feel sick, thinking of my parents. Then thinking of the cops. And then thinking of the body on the floor. Jason. So I didn’t even wince when the doctor slid a needle into the crook of my elbow, drawing the blood out.
