Read My Lips (Eminem Fanfic)

23. Awake / Sounds Like

Amari's P.O.V.

"I'll be here when you wake up, baby," Marshall mouths to me.

And that's one of the last things I see before I'm being put under.

Months of testing, and it had in fact turned out that I was a candidate for the cochlear implant surgery.

I still didn't know how I felt about it, even finally going in there.

I didn't lie about this, I'm USED to the silence.

I have lived in it the majority of my life after all.

But then... I'm also curious about hearing.

So, I'm finally taking the plunge, making that impulsive decision.

The doctors are telling me to count down from 10 to 1, so I go:

"Ten... nine... eight... seven..." as the drugs kick in, or so it would seem.

My body is suddenly so freaking heavy that I can't move not one limb if I wanted to.

But yet my mind is still clear.

And so is every feeling and sensation in my bones.

When I feel multiple cold fingers, covered in sterile gloves touch and probe everywhere around my head, it occurs to me that I am still fucking awake!!

I'm still awake but I cannot move.

My body is completely paralyzed by the anesthesia drugs but not at all numb, because I can still feel every feeling and touch and sensation upon my skin.

So I panic.

I'm yelling so loudly, screaming for them to stop!

Or at least I hope to God I'm screaming, because honestly, I'm always in comolete silence.

In my mind, I'm screaming and thrashing and fighting.

In reality, I'm probably laying still on that surgical table.

Everything around me so sterile, I can smell the chemicals and the overall clean atmosphere in the operating room.

I feel like I'm going to vomit from fear, yet nothing comes out. I can't even dry heave.

I'm screaming again, when I feel those like punctuating small punches all around my right ear, one of the surgeons or their assistants probably marking where to cut around it with one of those pens.

I open my mouth and straight up shriek at the top of my lungs as tears stream down my face.

Please understand that I am still awake and don't do this!!

Yet, on the outside, I guess, it appears as though I'm still as still as a statue.

Because a cold metal of the scalpel is then upon my skin and the pain is sharp and precise.

I wish I could cry.

I wish I could scream.

I wish Marshall could save me or something.

Honestly, I won't even care if he had killed any one of these surgeons right now.