Page 101 of Depravity

The doctor takes the band off my head and he moves the machine out of the way. For a second I feel such relief that they won’t do it again, that they won’t shock me again.

But then he comes back, and this time he has something that looks far worse in his hands.

Fear explodes in my chest. I try to scream, I try to fight, but my body won’t respond. It’s like I’m locked down, locked in. I’m a complete statue now, I’m not even a person. I’m trapped in my own body and there’s no escape. There’s no way out.

Conrad moves around to sit by my side, taking hold of my hand once more, in that show of comfort.

“I love you, Brynn, I love you so much.”

Ithought it through. I thought about it over and over.

I know this is what is meant to be. That this will fix it.

Her hand feels so cold, so still in my grasp, but there’s no movement, no rejection, nothing but obedience.

The doctor mutters again and I know he’s reticent, but I don’t give a fuck what his opinion is on the matter. He’s not here to make decisions, he’s here to carry out orders.

He places a metal instrument against her eyes, pinning her lids back and then he secures it in place to a stand that keeps her head up, so she’s in the perfect position for him to do his work.

He then takes the leucotome and slides it under her right lid. From the way her eyelids are held, she can’t blink and I wonderhow uncomfortable that must feel, to have something forced in where it’s not meant to go.

Her mouth starts moving, her lips start trembling, and I swear she whispers my name.

But it’s too late. It’s far too late.

This might be extreme, but I know it’s the right thing to do.

I’ve seen the results of the procedure a few times, in Oblivion. It’s worked on some of the more aggressive slaves, but I’ve never witnessed it up close. To say I have a morbid curiosity is an understatement.

The doctor starts working away quicker, breaking through the eye socket and taking out tiny bits of brain matter that he places into a dish. When he’s done with the right eye, he moves over to the left.

A cry echoes around the room as he breaks through her skull again, and I wonder if she needs another shock. When I voice that opinion, the doctor shakes his head.

“I don’t want her too out of it.” He says. “I need to see by her pupils how she’s reacting to it.”

I nod, giving way to his better judgement and I squeeze her hand again, reassuringly.

“Just a little longer.” I murmur, though I don’t know if that’s necessarily true or not.

I guess it doesn’t really matter. She won’t remember this. She won’t remember much from now on. The lobotomy will render her docile. It’ll render her emotionless. She’ll smile and she’ll respond but beyond that, she won’t feel true emotions, she won’t feel anything.

And that can only be a good thing. It’s her emotions that are the problem. Her emotions are the reason she won’t submit. I don’t need her to love me, no, I have enough love for both of us. I just need her to stop fighting me.

This will fix it. This will fix her.

All that fighting, all the anger, all the mania she’s had will be gone.

And she’ll be perfect then. My perfect little doll. She’ll accept my love without complaint. She’ll accept my caresses, and my touch and she will not know anything different.

He’s going to blind me.

He’s going to take my sight.

I can see that instrument coming down right on my eye.

And I can’t blink. I can’t even turn my head.

My limbs won’t work. My body won’t respond. Whatever they did in shocking me, it was enough to render me useless. Defenceless. Helpless.

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