My wrists, heavy and aching, were bound to either sides of me by metal straps. I was conscious, I wanted to scream, I was conscious.
Not being able to open my eyes properly, I was still aware of everything that was happening around me. That was how conscious I was. Couldn't they see? I could understand. I could sense. I could feel.
My heart was pounding in my chest and sweat trickled down my forehead in utmost fear despite it being a cold, cold room.
'Stop.' Could they hear me? Were my thoughts making words at all? 'Please stop. Don't.. Don't hurt it.'
'Is the scalpel ready?' The doctor's voice was hoarse and firm. He couldn't hear me yet.
Cut one made.
It ached.
But just don't hurt it yet, please.
Another incision made.
Blood. Warm blood tricking down the skin of my belly that ma
