Masacrik was such a weird doctor. By strange chance, you met with such a strange man. It wasn't hard to be infatuated with you, in fact it was all too easy with how painfully lonely you were. At least, that's what he thought, until he noticed you ha...
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I couldn't see a speck of light. Rather, my only sense I could truly feel was touch. I could feel my agonizing pain, I could feel the coldness of a tile floor on my stomach, and I could definitely feel something wrong. It felt like every bone, every nerve, every single muscle, and organ was rearranged, torn apart, and mixed back together. I tried to move my hand towards my face, as if to curl into myself more, and found myself shuttering in pain, unable to even move a muscle without the feeling of my muscles tighten up like a cramp, yet sting like a stab.
Fuck. How long was I out for?
I couldn't even see. I couldn't hear anything besides a damned drip of a faucet, that stupid hum of those hospital lights, and my own pathetic whimpers of pain.
Wait... those lights.
That crazed doctor either blinded me, or had something over my eyes. Either way, it wasn't looking good. I couldn't rely on my own body to move mere inches, how would I possibly move myself to escape from here? The answer was quick coming and harsh in my mind. I couldn't.
I whimpered against the chill of the cold tiles, my entire body feeling stabs and jolts with each inhale and exhale. It was utterly painful just to breathe. With every inhale, I could feel my lungs, which were desperate to take in oxygen, get stabbed with what felt like punctures along my spine and ribs. I wanted to cry out, to yelp in pain, but I couldn't seem to move my mouth. I couldn't move a single muscle, locked in a state where even trying hurt me greatly.
That damned dripping. Was that me or rather that faucet? Was I going to bleed out on the floor because of some fuckwad? It's embarrassing to think about, but maybe It'd god's punishment. I wanted to be fixed of my medical aliment so badly, and here I was as an experiment, a project. I had to wonder what he had done to me. Were my legs going to be backwards? Would I be stapled to some bird's wings like a gruesome cave painting splattered on his walls? I couldn't tell, there was simply no way to know. All I knew was the fact I would die here, I was dying. I would die right here, alone and in pain.
I sat there in that state for what seemed like hours before I heard a loud click of the door. I had been trapped here in this state for so long the click of the door made my body jolt, earning a large yelp of pain.
"Is the pet awake?" He spoke. I knew who it was. I knew that self righteous asshole was here, most likely gloating like the psychopath he was. I hated the playful tone etched into his voice, it was obvious he was grinning from ear to ear. Yet here I was, only whimpering in pain. The least this asshole could do was put me out of my misery, end my suffering, to kill me. Yet, I knew he wouldn't. The tone of teasing and playfulness in his voice told me that much. He'd squeeze every drop of my receding sanity out of me before that happened.
But here I was, shivering on whatever surface I was laid on, in agonizing pain.
As Dr. Masakrik approached, his footsteps echoing ominously in the dimly lit room, a wave of dread washed over me. Every fiber of my being screamed for release, for mercy, for an end to the torment inflicted upon me by this mad scientist.
