Dose

Chapter 1

A/N: Welcome to Dose! This is a story written by myself AND RaelynCrasher . We hope you enjoy!

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"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." -Edgar Allan Poe

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Dark eyes stare back at me through the dirty mirror. Are my pupils dilated, or is that their normal size? Are my eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, or the disease? Does my hair look thinner?

I tear my gaze away from my reflection and scrutinize the inside of my forearm. Black veins and pale skin are two telltale signs of NVI. My arm looks fine to me, but maybe that's the insanity beginning to creep in. Already, I've had minor hallucinations: distorted faces, shadowy figures, and—probably the most upsetting—on occasion I see my dad's face instead of my own in the mirror. Those sunken brown eyes staring straight into my soul.

I shudder, dreading the very thought. Insanity is the stage I fear the most; the stage where the victim's mind isn't their own. Everyone knows a victim of NVI. We've all heard the awful things they say when they near the end.

It's only a matter of days—hours, even—before I succumb to the same fate. The wretched disease has already claimed the lives of half the world's previous population; I'm going to be just another statistic.

I avoid looking into the mirror as I exit my small washroom, grabbing my relay off the counter. I start dialing my mom's number before I have a chance to stop myself. Two rings later and I hear a soft "Ambrosia? Is that you?"

My throat closes up. What do I tell her? The truth is out of the question. She'd tell me to go to the Ward. But if I went there I'd have to explain everything... and that's impossible.

"Honey, are you there?"

After clearing the lump in my throat, I manage, "Yeah, I'm here. Can I come over?"

At least then I can see them all one last time.

The warm "Of course, honey," from the other line fills me with relief, and tears sting the backs of my eyes.

"Okay. I love you. All of you." I choke out, then hit the END button. As much as I want to talk to my family, I can't do it on the relay. I need to see them in person. As soon as possible.

I change out of my lounging clothes and into the standard jeans and black t-shirt, tying the government-issued sweatshirt around my waist. While it's rare for it to get cold outside anymore, nighttime can drop as low as 60 degrees. My mother's words about 'chilly weather speeding up a cold' chase away my apprehension to the extra padding. While I don't think a sweatshirt will stop this sickness from progressing through my body, it can help ease my racing mind.

That is if I can manage to keep the hallucinations at bay.

I stuff my relay into the right side pocket of my jeans. Years ago, pants had pockets in the back. This always perplexed me. I have no idea why anyone would want to sit on the items they store. Relays aren't cheap these days.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step out into the empty corridor beyond my small apartment unit. My heartbeat quickens.

The Testing Admins are standing guard by the entrance, stiff as ever. Any other week and I wouldn't be concerned with the menacing officers, but this time is different. I can only pray that my veins haven't turned that dreaded dark shade.

I try to slow my breathing as I approach the two officials. One is a man, slight of build and wearing a long white coat. I think he is wearing corrective lenses, but his facial features are swirling around too much for me to be certain. The other is a woman, dressed in combat pants, a serious-looking vest, and black boots. A sentry. I can't even make out the color of her eyes.