The machine beeps just like Susan said it would. I pull the hatch open, steam pouring out and revealing bubbling green liquid. The smell hits me like a hurricane. I gag, reeling back, hands flying to my mouth and nose to stop the smell. I know this smell. I know it all too well. The sickly sweet aroma, the unforgiving days in the lab, the countless tests. I can still feel the needles in my arm, the way my head would go fuzzy and I would remember nothing afterwards. 

Even now my head spins, and I pull the hatch closed immediately. I plant my hands against the side of the machine, hot under my palms, and take several deep breaths. I feel like throwing up, the memories hammering against the side of my skull. Why would they have this? Do they know what these chemicals are, what they can do? I take a staggering step back, mind racing with panic. I need to find Susan—no, Mr. Miller. He needs to know what kind of chemicals he’s using, and I need to ask how he got them. Could he have met Dr. Walters? Perhaps Mr. Miller is being tricked?

I try to stop my trembling as I break into a run, startling other workers. I almost rip the door from its hinges when I exit, racing down the hallway and searching wildly for Susan or Mr. Miller. I feel so disoriented it’s hard to focus, my eyes trying hard to look past employees moving about.

“Um, miss? Are you alright?” Someone taps me on the shoulder, a kind-looking woman with freckles littered across her cheeks. I’m shaking so hard and I must look like I’ve seen a ghost. 

I feel bad for making a stranger worry for me, but brush that aside and hurriedly ask, “Do you know where Mr. Miller is?” 

“H-He should be in his office.” She stammers, blinking at me as I grip her hand. She winces, reminding me to reel in my strength.

“Which way?”

She points towards a door with a shaky hand, and I rush off without giving her an explanation. I slam open the door so hard it almost falls off the hinges, surprising Mr. Miller and Susan who had been talking. They look at me with wide eyes, Mr. Miller rising from his seat. “Did something happen? What’s wrong?”

I close the door behind be with trembling hands. “T-The chemical…”

“What about it?” Susan asks, frowning.

“It’s an anesthesia.” I say lowly. “Did you know that?”

Mr. Miller and Susan look at each other. Then Mr. Miller turns to me. “No…I didn’t. How did you find this out?”

I swallow, not wanting to reveal my past. But reluctantly, I lower my head, “It was used on me before. I recognize the smell.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry you had to experience that.” Susan comes to my side, holding my arm gently. Her eyes are sympathetic. “Thank you for telling us. We will dispose of it immediately.” She nods towards Mr. Miller.

Relief fills me to the brim, looking at them hopefully. They seem like nice and understanding people.

Susan wraps an arm around my shoulder, leading me out the door. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll handle this.”

Unsure what to do afterwards, I merely help around by carrying heavy things, since I’m stronger than most people. I didn’t want to go anywhere near the chemical, and as the day comes to an end, I have yet to see Susan or Mr. Miller appear to stop the machine. I assume they’re going to do it once everyone’s gone, in order not to cut the flow of work.

As everyone is packing up and changing out of their uniforms, a lady taps me, her partly grey hair tied up neatly in a bun and a kind smile on her face. "You're the newbie, right? Erm..." She checks her clipboard. "Eve?"

"Yes, that's right." I answer.

"Great! I have you listed in our company dorm so I'll show you how to get there." She leads me to the back of the factory, out the back door. There is a line of employees by the road. The woman gestures at the line. "Just stand over there and wait for the bus to come. A bus comes every 15 minutes from 7pm to 9pm, so don't panic if you happen to miss a bus."

"Oh, that's great!" A big smile appearing on my face. "Thank you."

"My pleasure!" She smiles back before returning into the factory, a pep in her step. It's amazing how nice these people are. I think I've hit the jackpot with this job. 

The bus pulls up after a few minutes as the lady said. Barely making it on, I manage to squeeze my way through. As the bus shakes with every bump and turn, I have to constantly remind myself to reel in my strength, or else I would've crushed someone flat, or even pull off the handrail. It would be a disaster to try and explain that away. Act normal, act normal!

Thank fully, the ride is not that long. Only thirty minutes away—perhaps I could've run this distance and made it there even faster. I'll try that next time. Or is it better to take the bus so people don't wonder how you got there so quickly?

My thoughts trail off as the passengers begin to pile off. I follow them to a decent-looking building, but they all seem to know where to go as they either go up the stairs or wait for the elevator. I glance around, nervous. I tap someone on the shoulder, a man that looks in his thirties. He throws me a surprised glance, then his expression morphs into annoyance. "What?"

"Um, how do you know which room is yours?" I ask, feeling incredibly dumb un