The Only

Chapter Nine - Neima

Neima marched down the hall. Her heels dug into the carpet, leaving small divots behind her. Why couldn't she give Karl a sample of her blood? The world is literally dying around her, and she couldn't roll up her sleeve for a small pinprick. A pinprick for Christ sake!

Angrily, she continued to stomp. Every few steps were accompanied by the loud, reassuring snap of a cracked knuckle.

It wasn't as if she felt the doctor incapable of taking her blood. He proved to be most competent in all that was presented to him so far. It was just...it was really...

Neima abruptly stopped walking.

She had brought the doctor to Scotland so she could keep an eye on him and assess the situation. He knew more about her and Nocturnes than any Vulgari. But it wasn't enough. She needed to watch him more before she could, before she could...trust him.

Neima took a deep breath. Baggage. The millennia did nothing to help her dump her baggage.

"Stop your screaming, girl," the doctor shouted out from between her legs. "Slaves...lazy, ignorant creatures. You should be able to take the pain. It's in your genetic makeup. Now shut up, or I'll slit your neck and your scream will be your last."

Neima, or Maggie, that was her slave name then, let out a small yelp and then bit down on her tongue. Her dark hands crumpled up the fabric of her dirt stained dress.

"Well, I'll be...why aren't you bleedin'? You're not sufferin' like the others," the doctor said to himself. "You heal so quickly, as if I haven't done anythin'."

Maggie squirmed as she felt the instrument continue to poke and recut her vagina wall. Although she was instantly healing after each slice, the table was covered in red from the steady drips of blood from each cut. He was very thorough in his examination.

"Stay still," he scolded, grabbing her left leg. "You behave, and I'll give you some of that real nice opium. Fix you right up."

She gasped in pain as the enormous, makeshift speculum stretched her open even further. He wasn't going to stop at just a simple bloodletting. He was going to puncture and damage anything he could reach.

Stowed away in her cell, she had heard the other slave women talk of the doc who loved his knife and used it on the lady parts of his slaves. Some of them had multiple surgeries on their reproductive organs. The descriptions were hideous accounts of how the doctor propped them open and cut them up without any anesthetic – even though it was available.

She couldn't hold it together much longer. It would be risky, but she had to make her escape.

She breathed in deeply and curled her dress up in her fists even tighter. One. Two. Three.

Maggie screamed and kept screaming. With every shriek, she kicked. Her foot caught the doctor in the chest, throwing him off her and into the wall.

With a desperate tug, she removed the speculum. Ignoring the blood, she got to her feet.

"Get back on that table," he barked. "Don't make me hurt you, girl."

"Hurt me," she said. "Like you haven't already?" Full of adrenaline, she picked up his scalpel and with every ounce of energy she could muster, jammed it into his leg.

"You bitch!" he shouted, grabbing his thigh.

"Yes, I am," Maggie said, picking up a wooden chair and slamming it on top of his head.

Dr. J. Marion Sims fell back and slid to the floor, not completely unconscious, but not fully awake either.

Ripping open the cupboard doors, she found the bowl of opium.