The scalpel was hovering over top of my chest once again. Now that the first cut had been healed, it was clear that Phil, the phlebotomist, wasn't going to waste any more time when it came to cutting me open.
"See, that is where you are wrong," he murmured as if talking to himself.
I could feel the bite of the blade as it punctured my skin before tearing its way down the center of my body.
Blood started to pour out of the wound, but he simply reached out and adjusted the knob in the IV, causing my blood to be sucked up faster. I guess he couldn't stand the idea that I was just wasting product or something.
"And where am I wrong?" I asked, trying to keep my breathing and voice normal. I always refused to give my assailant the pleasure of knowing that they had gotten to me.
And while this might not be one of my mother's minions, the principles were still the same.
"You said she. That 'she' spoke to you. My angel is a man." He placed the scalpel back down on the tray and cocked his head to the side, looking at me. "Unless…"
He paused, no longer seeming to care that blood was starting to drip to the floor from where it was pooled up beside me.
"Unless?" I promoted with a sigh. While the blood loss wouldn't kill me (it has been tried before, and I came back just fine), it does make me tired. And weak. And I hated the feeling of either one when I was at someone else's mercy.
"Unless you don't think that the angels are real. Is that it? Are you assuming that I am crazy?" he asked, turning his attention back to my chest. He pulled out what looked to be giant hedge trimmers before coming up on the table and straddling me.
I raised an eyebrow, unable to help myself.
His bodyweight was resting on my pelvis as he awkwardly raised the clippers and pushed them into the incision he had just made.
The pain was blinding, but I pushed it aside. It wouldn't kill me. I just had to keep reminding myself of that over and over again. No matter what he did. It wouldn't kill me.
The handles were at least two to three feet long, giving him ample torque to complete his next move.
*Snap*
I arched my back off the table, holding back the scream as he cut one of my ribs in two.
"That's one," he grunted like he was the one in pain. "Right… where were we?"
Another snap, another suppressed scream.
The monsters in my life had nothing on this man when it came to psychological games and torture. And the worst part was that Phil didn't even realize what he was doing.
"I don't think you are crazy because you believe that angels are talking to you," I assured him.
I thought he was crazy because he was completely calm while snapping my ribs in two. I thought he was crazy because he was able to continue a conversation with me. I thought he was crazy because he was doing all of this in the first place.
But I didn't think he was crazy because he claimed that angels spoke to him.
"Once again, you are wrong. There is only one angel. You are saying that there is more than one talking to me." A third clip and more pain.
But worse than that, I almost couldn't even feel that one. My pain receptors were misfiring from all of the stimuli, and I was fading…
Fast.
But I wouldn't let myself be knocked out while at his mercy. I wanted and needed to know what he was doing to me; I couldn't stand the thought of something unknown happening.
Most of the time, the psychological scars were worse than anything they could inflict on my body.
I tried to shrug my shoulders, my brain struggling to keep up with the conversation. "The first time I saw an angel, he had an entire legion with him," I said, forcing air into my burning lungs.
Why did I do this to myself?
Or right… so the innocent don't suffer the same fate.
"I have another one living at my house right now."
At some point in time, I must have closed my eyes because there was a slap across my face that forced me to open them again.
Looking up, I saw Phil leaning over me and panting heavily. His face was a bright red color.
"You will be punished for your lies," he hissed before visibly collecting himself again. Leaning back until he was seated on my pelvis again, he went back to work, this time faster than before.
*Snip*
*Crack*
*Snap*
I counted 14 snips of the sheers before Phil got off of me and off the table.
"Normally, I would have made a 'Y' incision and then pinned back the flesh while I did all this," he said calmly. He reached into the incision and ripped out my sternum before chucking the bone matter over his shoulder.
I could hear it clattering to the floor, a trail of blood showing its route.
"But I think that is too nice for you," he continued as he turned to look at me, his eyes narrowing. "You need to suffer."
I snorted at his statement. What had I ever done to this man to make him think that I deserved this type of treatment?
Smirking, he cut two more incisions, just over top of my breasts before pulling the flaps of skin apart.
Looking down, I could see my heart beating in the cavity of my chest. My lungs inflated and deflated with every breath I took.
"Isn't it marvellous?" he whispered as he gazed into my bloody hole. "Something that size… something so seemingly small is the whole reason why we are alive right now."
Reaching in, he caressed my beating organ, not caring that my blood was still pouring out of my body. Surprisingly, he was only covered up to his elbows in the red liquid. He must have done this more times than we knew about to be able to remain so clean.
"Now, let's get started."