Page 102 of Depravity

“Please…” I beg, praying that this time they might listen. This time they might spare me.

Only, those words are in my head too because my mouth won’t work. My throat won’t form words.

And that sharp thing keeps coming down, it keeps lowering.

I can’t shut my eyes. I can’t even look away. The thing on my face keeps my lids open as the spike pushes into me.

Pain explodes behind my eyes, and I scream out. I can’t stop screaming.

But neither of them react. Neither of them seems to even hear it.

Something in my head snaps, some part of my skull seems to give way. My screams turn to an awful groaning sound. My thoughts seem to dissipate.

As he pulls the thing out, I can see the amount of blood on it. My blood. But there’s something else too. At the end, mingled with it. It’s tissue, brain tissue.

He’s mangling my brains.

I let out another scream, only this sounds like a strange gurgling noise. The doctor leans down, staring at my pupils, checking for something I don’t know.

And then he lowers that instrument again, forcing it into my other eye, forcing it through.

No.

No.

Noooo.

I need it to stop.

I need them to stop.

My legs kick out, my body fights. But it’s useless. It’s all useless.

Please.

Why won’t they stop?

Why won’t anybody help me?

Bright light.

Bright.

Like an angel.

Floating, swimming in the air.

I try to raise my hand, to snatch at it. Maybe this is it, this is what death is. And that is my soul leaving my body, leaving me behind to rot away like bad fruit.

“I don’t want to die.”

I don’t know if I speak those words out loud or in my head, but they sound wrong. Twisted. Like I’m in a glass tank, and everything is echoing against the sides and distorting.

“I don’t want to die.” I scream louder.

Someone tuts. It’s an irritated sound. Me, I’m irritating them.

“Well?”

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