knock on wood | howlett

vi. now

dirty paws ; of monsters and men

they began walking down the hall again, deeper than ever before. it was horribly dark and the fire-lit lamps that swung from the ceiling were even more daunting.

she exhaled slowly, counting her steps.

soon enough, they stopped in front of another door. she looked at the stone floor, covered with blood and dirt. he gripped the handle and opened it inward.

she looked in and saw hell. she believed she was in hell, and each step into the room was another foot in descent.

"this is the infirmary," the doctor stated to her. she looked around the room. patients lay in every cot and bed with bloody bandages and sparse, dirty clothing.

every person looked dazed with exhaustion and dehydration. they looked terribly hungry and ill.

he took her arm to guide her farther along. he moved a dirty curtain, that stretched the length of the room (a makeshift wall), aside.

"the operation room."

she gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand. nausea seized her stomach and her head throbbed.

a dismembered body lay on a hard, metal cot. the body was unrecognizable, the face beaten in. limbs lay on trays and organs in bowls. blood was everywhere.

"are you ready for your operation?" he asked her. she kept her eyes on the scene, paralyzed with fear and unable to look away.

nurses hurried to move the limp body out of the way and ended up making a heap in a laundry bag.

they cleaned the surfaces with sloppiness, hurried by the doctor's pressure. but they were done. and she was to be operated on.

she followed the doctor's orders, to scared to do otherwise. she undressed, laid on the cot, and he examined where to start.

"i'd like to start with the head," he jabbed her forehead violently with his pointer finger, "but we should leave that for a later day."

she stared blankly at a candle, flickering and undisturbed by the horror of abduction that beck found herself in.

she couldn't tell if he was talking to her or the nurses when he smiled wickedly and said, "let's begin."

he pressed a knife to her stomach and she screamed out in mortifying pain. there was no pain killer; there was no such thing, nor would it be gifted to an anti-human.

he cut and clipped and added and subtracted everything imaginable. she soon fell unconscious, a blessing maybe.

when he was finished, he sewed her intestines back up and had the nurses move her to the infirmary.

infection began to sink its claws in her before she even opened her eyes. and the nurses were quick to wipe the ooze from the wound and pour salt water on it, in hopes of it healing.

she jolted awake with this.

she was in trauma. they did the best to ease her, but being that medical advances hadn't really been made, there was not much to be done.

but the time passed, and she healed. soon enough, it was time for a physical examination.

"nice to see you again, miss rebecca," he smiled kindly when she entered his office. she was in a clean set of linens.

"you're going to hell," she stated wholeheartedly.

he chuckled as she began to undress, as per usual. he began to take measurements, record, and repeat.

"you're going to burn for eternity."

"for enhancing the things people hate most in this world?" he spat on the floor. "mutants."

"is the devil your ally?" he slapped her at the end of her sentence, she moved to hit him back and he caught her fist in the air.

"bite back your tongue, miss rebecca. or i will cut it out," he spoke tightly. she saw the person that operated on her and stitched her up. she saw the doll maker in him.

she was silent. he let go of her fist and finished measuring.

"since you are back to your good health, we will operate. come with me," he stated. she pulled on a hospital gown and followed him back, reluctantly. she wanted to run; she knew the way back.

but the door opened and they stepped in, and it closed behind them. he locked it. he didn't lock it last time.

he led her past the ill and 'healing' bodies. he led her past the curtain. she undressed and laid on the blood-dried cot.

"how about the heart, this time?" he tapped the butt of the syringe on her chest. she tightened her neck and glared at him.

he will burn in hell, he will burn in hell.

he cut into her skin, and she writhed. she gripped the edges of the cot.

she had to stay still. the surgery was delicate enough without a maniac behind the knife. she clenched her teeth with each inch deeper.

he placed the tip on the outside of the heart's wall. he danced the knife around the sides, lightly tracing the throbbing red skin.

blood began to play, following the syringe. he stopped.

he stitched the flesh, ignoring the heart. he sent her on her way.

she was, of course, unconscious by this point. she lay in the infirmary, surrounded by countless people suffering the same fate.

some of these people went to school with her. some of these people have her the scars she bares. some of these people, she'd give anything to kill.

but she didn't care about the people, nor could she. she had to survive. she had to get out of here.

no one was going to stop her.