An Opening Scene for Ruth
2023 Creative Writing Contest submission
Semiat Olanigan, 12th grade

This floor was really dirty. 

Seriously, did anyone ever clean this place? Ruth noticed a pretty big stain that must’ve been some kind of coffee splashed onto the floor. There was a shadow of it dripping down the wall that must’ve been permanent by now. The dirt and grime did fade into the blank grey background of the facility, but now that she really paid attention, was that a muddy footprint etched into the floor right there? 

Was that light flickering? She knows they don’t get a constant supply of electricity here, they have to do supply runs frequently to Venezuela to pick up essentials like gas for the huge generator in their basement and clean water and food, so when the light blinked rapidly above her, she thought of the generator and strained her ears to try and hear it. Was that it buzzing in the background? Or was that a fly?

Wait, why was she even walking down this hall again? Outside the day was almost completely gone, in its place was a dark pinkish-orange sky and sunset-stained clouds stretching over the sky. She should be in bed now, recording her condition for today and ignoring Serena while she droned on about all the recent romance books she’d read/wrote. 

Oh wait, no she remembers. Damien had summoned her. For the third time this week. 

It was to “check up on her”. The word ‘scattered’ and ‘distracted’ came up a lot in their conversations, and it irked her to no end. Her work was getting done, she wasn’t behind on any reports, couldn’t he just mind his own business? 

But that reminded her, she should take her dose for today. The time for her to take it had long since passed. Had she really been so scatter-brained? It was kind of scary, all these changes that were happening that no one could see. 

Well, except Damien. 

He always lingered on her, staring straight at her while he gave instructions that came by way too fast and disappeared before she could even start to listen. Maybe the universe was trying to give her a sign, to stop this little experiment of hers. 

Right, medication. 

Ruth took a sharp left and walked down another metal grey corridor to get to the bathroom. This whole facility was a nightmare of metal walls and dirt. And he guesses, they didn’t really have the endless budget to make this place fancy, and with what went on in here, maybe thick metal was better than flimsy plaster, but really would it kill them to add some color? Maybe paint the walls beige just to be less monotone. 

Ruth locked the door just in case. The last thing she needed was some nosy researcher pushing their way into her business. 

She dug into her coat pockets and pulled out her bottle and syringe. She stuck the needle in and slowly pulled up the murky black liquid into the barrel. The viscous substance slowly crawled past the four-millimeter mark. 

Ruth took a deep breath before sticking the syringe into her arm and pushing hard. A spark of pain erupted in her bicep, and the trails of fire burning through her veins shocked her so hard she hit the wall. 

Movement caught her eye, but it was only herself in the mirror. The bags under her eyes were dark, had they grown since yesterday? She leaned closer to the mirror, her eyes were bloodshot, probably from the lack of sleep, and with how late she’d taken her dose, she’d be getting even less tonight. 

She stuffed the syringe and bottle back into her lab coat and pulled out a small pocket-size journal instead. On the front cover in forest-green letters were the words ‘EXPERIMENT-RECORD’. She checked her watch and jotted down the time. ’19:00 hours – dose taken. Effects heightened after set time.’ 

She’d have to write out a more detailed description of her condition later, she wanted this to be accurate as possible, but there were going to be some mishaps when she was doing this on herself and not some wayward soul strapped to the ground of a soundproof room. 

Her mind felt clearer, like a fuzz had disappeared. She’d have to note that down too, but for now she had to get to Damien’s office. 

She straightened herself, tucking in loose hairs and trying her best to not look like a druggie. 

There was no way to hide the bags, but at least there’d be less for him to worry about; she always kept herself looking professional. 

She straightened her collar and smoothed out the creases in her pants. Time to go meet Damien Rockwell.