The physician strapped my limbs to the skeletal remnants of the operating table. The leather strips dug into my flesh; ripping my veins and slicing off my circulation. I moaned, feeling the tightness kneading into my skin, like a yeasty dough, ready to bake. The surgeon gazed at me, his eyes of no emotion; only the white washed teal iris colored his forsaken skull. The man removed his hand from his pocket, running it over the tray of saws, blades, and other unspeakable tools. Tools that he would use on me. Without a word, he seized an oxidized cutlass from the pile. The blade was worn, dented, dotted with crimson fluid. He beamed at it, stroking its’ handle as though it was his long lost friend. I glared at him, trying to cloak my fear with less petty emotions. But fear emerged, crawling out from under the veil, seeping into my thoughts. “What do you plan on using that for?” I sneered. The practitioner scowled at me, snickering. “You speak too much.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you never hear anybody talk, just daunting screams. Your life must get tedious, your ass being cooped up in this rancid operating room, doing the same things over and over…” My voice trailed off. He smiled; but his eyes were raging and erupting with anger. “Well you’re right about one thing,” My ears perked up. “ I never do get to have any fun.” He spun around and trudged over to the drain pipe, pulling out a plump, hairy, rodent. “Wait, what are going to do with that?” I quivered. He smiled a maniacal smile. “I’m going to have some fun.” With one quick, timeless motion, he stuffed the beastly vermin down my throat. Its’ paws clawed at my tongue and scraped my gums until they bled. It bit at my uvula, making me vomit onto it. Its’ whiskers brushed my trachea, forcing me to wheeze. I screamed a silent scream, inhaling my retch, and finally asphyxiating on its’ overgrown claws.
The surgeon wrapped his hand around my jaw, and smiled. “Would you like to breathe once more?” I nodded my head as best as I could. He grinned and sheathed his digits around its’ fleshy tail, slowly extracting it from my mouth. I heaved and coughed, finally to regaining my breath. “Now, you are only to respond when I ask you a question; or else your esophagus will become a breeding ground.” He held up the rat, its’ fur coated in bile and ears still twitching. “Do you understand?” I nodded. “Now, you have not been an easy patient, so I think that I will afflict as much pain as possible. He turned around and grasped a decaying saw. “This is my favorite saw.” he said. “Do you know why?” I didn’t answer. “I said,” he snarled, “Do you know why!?”
He struck his hand across my cheek, making it bleed. “Why?” I whimpered. “Because,” he smirked. “I killed my entire family with it!” The doctor slammed the saw onto my right arm, slashing it back and fourth. I screamed a blood curling scream. I could feel each vein, carving into smaller, uneven pieces. I could feel the nerves, peeling over, sliding out of place. I could also feel the brachial artery in my arm, slowly rip to shreds by the teeth of the blade. It took a while, but it finally reached the bone, the knife tasting its’ marrow and enjoying its’ carnivorous treat. When the doctor was finally done, he dipped my stub in salty water, making the translucent fluid instantly turn red, and burn the off the healthy flesh, creating my arm, (or what was left) into a buffet for bacteria. “Is that the best you’ve got?” I moaned. “well, it was going to be, but another idea had emerged.” He picked back up the oxidized saw, and amputated my other arm, distracting me from my right arms pain, and welcoming me into a whole new world of malady. He dipped my other stump into another clear fluid, but this time, it harmed even worse. It felt like my arm was being beaten by phosphorescent coals, each scarring my tissue. The pain was unbearable, and I exercised my vocal chords, almost bursting my ear drums with that horrific scream. “Thank you for being my guinea pig.” he chuckled. I kicked my legs, trying to free myself from the shackles, but it was too late. He grasped a more fitting weapon for the job. A rusted, greasy, Stihl chainsaw ended up in his hands. He flung his arm backwards, flicking the its’ engine on. The slow rumble of the motor filled my ears. I clenched my teeth, while involuntary tears fell from my eyes. “You bastard!” I shrieked, but he ignored my comment and pushed the saw to my bare, supple leg, ripping my epidermis and exposing my femoral artery for the entire world to see. I wailed at the pain, flinching each time the plasma licked my face. He finally punctured my popliteal artery exited my leg completely. I peered down at the sight, and it looked like a massacre, or what my Granddad would have described it as, Bloody Kansas. The doctor reached for the iron bucket of gasoline and dunked my leg in it, making me cry out once more. As I had expected, he cleaved off my right leg as well, and dipped it into the same vile smelling fluid. “Well,” I sighed, “you’ve really outdone yourself doctor.” I opened my mouth, my bludgeoned tongue falling from the cavern. He smiled. “But we’re not finished yet.” He reached over to the table and grabbed a small, rusted, scalpel. “Dear God!” I cried out, my eyes emitting dew once more. The surgeon jabbed it into my abdomen, and ran it up to my collarbone, making sure to dig into my organs indubitably hard. I growled at him, my eyes raging at him, my heart itching for a kill. He licked his lips and reached for the surgical retractors, opening my guts for the universe to see. “Why haven’t I thought of this years ago!” he cried, his voice swelling with happiness. He picked up one of the last buckets from the cracked cement floor, and dumped it into my intestines, allowing me to cry another murderous cry. I finally felt weary, my eyes were now fluttering shut. “Don’t lose consciousness yet,” he murmured as he picked up a screwdriver and forced it into my retina. If I had said that I screamed loudly before, there was no pain comparable to this. He gouged out my eyes, cut off the nerves, and “accidentally spilled” diesel into my empty sockets. The man had a way of keeping you alive, awake and conscious, for the longest possible time. His words taunted and snared, making every fiber of your being, fight back, just so that you could reject what he had to say. “Please dear God,” I bawled. “Please let me die.” That was not the first time I had said those words, but finally, I understood what they meant. The doctor took something from his pocket. He rattled it a time or two, finally opening it and striking it, flinging it into my chest. My insides were smoldering, melting, disintegrating. I heaved my final breath, pulling the remnants of air from my oozing lungs. He crouched down, whispering in my ear, a silent goodbye, and paced to the door, leaving me behind.
