Daddy [Mommy Sequel]

Chapter 39: Showers and Skin

I slumped to the side of the shower wall, clenching the scalpel in my hand. I shook my head, knowing it was what I had to do to keep the map—and if it worked, no one would be able to find the map but me.

In fact, it was quite smart.

Besides, the water would make it grow back.

I swallowed as I carefully pressed the knife into the skin of my uninjured thigh, wincing as my eyes fogged over with pain. I took a deep breath, my hand shaking as the chemical smell swelled in my nostrils.

I anxiously pushed the blade deeper than yesterday, making sure the skin would come off cleanly. I began to question if this was a good idea or not.

But at the moment, it was the only idea.

Of course, I've only read about being flayed, but I'm sure removing one's skin wouldn't be that hard.

Unless it was your skin that was being removed.

I hissed and held back a moan as I cut deep lines into my skin, tracing out a large square—a square of flesh big enough to cover the map on my other thigh.

It was sick, but it might be the only way to preserve it.

It hurt more than yesterday—considering the fact I was going deeper, and my leg twitched with the gross, almost unbearable feeling. My eyes watered as my leg involuntarily jerked.

I slowly and agonizingly connected the cuts on my skin, finishing off the form of the square. At this point, my leg was trembling, and I watched as the blood dripped—no, ran out from my leg, staining my pale skin red and running down the drain like a waterfall. I winced, just the action of moving my leg stinging.

This was going to hurt.

I slowly pushed the scalpel into the corner of the bleeding square, wincing and trembling as I did so. I gasped as the blade slid under my flesh, causing me to cry out in pain.

It burned.

The steam was slowly beginning to fog my vision, and my head began to throb. I felt oddly sick, and I realized I had to hurry—considering the fact I was losing blood extremely fast.

Tears ran down my face, and the air was thick.

My legs gave out and I slumped on the floor, just out of the way of the sprays of chemical water. The liquid on the floor burned and stung my skin, although it wasn't enough to distract me from the pain on my thigh.

The white floors were staining a deep red.

Once I cut enough of the corner of the square up, peeling the skin forward—I dropped the scalpel, watching as it clattered on the floor. It wouldn't do me any good—and it was too small to work at the speed I wanted.

I instead replaced the metal under my skin with my finger, gripping it tightly. The wound began to tingle, and I hoped it would go numb.

The blood made it hard to grip on to, my fingers sliding and my nails pinching into the vessels and skin.

I leaned my head against the cold wall of the shower, having trouble breathing. The air swallowed me up like water.

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut. My hand trembled as I could feel the pinch of my flesh between my fingers. My nails dug into my skin, twisting my revealed nerves.

This was going to hurt.

I bit down on the skin of my arm as I began to slowly rip the skin from my thigh.