Tightrope; A New Romance

Chapter 25- Endurance

A/N: Fair warning guys ! This chapter does get a little gruesome and violent. If this upsets you, please turn to the next chapter.

There was this dream I once had when I was little. Mum and I had done some grocery shopping and were on our way home, only Mum said first we were stopping for a surprise. Surprises usually meant ice cream- my favourite being chocolate with sprinkles- so I was jumping up and down with excitement as we walked into the shop.
Except, it wasn't an ice cream shop.
This shop was full of boxes. Weird shaped boxes that were wide at the top and skinny at the bottom. I looked up at Mum, who was smiling down at me cheering, "surprise!"
I didn't understand.
Mum kissed me on the forehead and picked out a box. Was this the surprise? I was eager to see what was inside the box, yes, that was my surprise! Mum helped me open the box and sit inside, to get a better look. There was a little thud and the box got really dark. I banged on the roof of the box, yelling for Mum to let me out, saying I didn't like it, but she wouldn't. I could hear voices outside, they were saying what a lovely little girl Scarlett Walker was, and that she was taken from us too soon. I screamed and kicked and cried, but no one opened the lid.

Being thrown onto an operating table and cut into while paralysed was that feeling.

The feeling of being in fear and pain and not being able to do anything about it was unbearable.

I could feel everything, I just couldn't move; it was like being asleep with your eyes open, and becoming a sufferer in the way that I was completely open and vulnerable to pain; a nightmare.

And pain it was indeed.

My shirt had been ripped open from the back, and I was laid down on my stomach without putting up a fight due to my paralysis, but the men still held down my arms.

When I questioned myself as to why, a voice in my head told me, "just precautions."
If I ever heard that again it'd be too soon.

I couldn't move, breathing was even difficult in itself. My body had become completely uncontrollable. It wasn't receiving the messages my brain was sending, my bones and muscles ignoring them.

I had my cheek against the cold silver of the operating table. It was a clear enough line of vision to see the woman select a scalpel. I prayed they'd put me under some sort of anaesthetic first; they couldn't be so cruel to do whatever they were planning to do while I was in this state.

But cruel they were.

The moment the scalpel had sawed into my skin, I felt it. I wanted to throw myself off this table, I wanted to wreathe under the knife.

The incision was made along the side of my left shoulder blade, then another on my right. I could scream and cry, but not matter what I wanted and whatever internal struggle I made, my limbs would not obey my wishes to move; to do something, anything.

I yelled into the silver pressed against my face, wanting desperately for this to be over.

The woman in the gown pulled at my freshly sliced, broken skin, causing me to yelp and scream.

Trails of hot red trickled down my back, forming in pools next to my neck.

And I couldn't do anything.

Something reached into my shoulder, into the cut. It was worse than the initial incisions, something moving under my skin and toying with my insides. I wanted to rip what ever it was out, I wanted to kill the woman doing this to me, I wanted to thrash and claw like an animal.

And so pain fuelled my fire.

My breathing became slower, my back rocking and shaking with the heavy inhales. My head shook like a vibration and my fists clamped against the table.