Missing

25

Chapter Twenty- Five

One by one, people left the room until it was just me and the surgeon; he had his back facing away from me as he prepared his utensils. I looked up at the ceiling as I tried to fight back my tears, the bright lights blinded me partially. His breathing was muffled by the sound of a machine humming in the corner of the room. I didn't want to look and see what it was, I didn't want to know what contraption they had ready for me.

A tap ran in the background as the surgeon washed his hands, still he hadn't spoken to me. I suppose he didn't see the point in talking to me, he wasn't there to make me feel comfortable. He was hired for one job and one job only- to extract my organs. I wondered if he too was part of the black market, or if he had been paid a large sum of money that made him forget his conscience.

I wanted to faint, to black out so I couldn't feel the fear coursing round my body but my eyes stayed wide awake and the sweat continued to drip down my forehead. They say that your life flashes before your eyes before you die, I didn't get any of that. I couldn't focus on anything but the noises that were echoing around the cold room.

The surgeon wheeled his trolley of utensils next to where I lay, he wouldn't look me in the eyes. I wanted to scream at him, ask him how he could be so calm about taking another life. I wanted to ask him if he knew what he would be charged for if anyone found out. But I knew deep down that nobody would ever know what happened to me, I would just be another missing person case that nobody could ever solve. The police station would joke about it over lunch, the teenage detective who went missing herself.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to block out the sound of him sitting down on his stool, I tried to ignore the sound of his voice telling me what he was going to do. He lifted my head up a bit so he could put the mask on my face, I breathed the gas in slowly. My head began to feel woozy, my eyelids drooping every few seconds and it was a struggle to keep them open.

Hazily I saw the surgeon go up and get something from a countertop and I gave him a lopsided smile. My brain began to shut down slowly, the idea of death was washed away as darkness began to take over my mind.

Is it now that I tell you this story does not end happily? Should I have told you at the start that this story ends in death? I suppose I didn't want to do a Romeo and Juliet and reveal the plot twist on the first page, I suppose you thought that someone would save me.

As I lay on that hospital bed, I knew nobody could save me. I knew nobody even knew where I was. Its a shame really, that this story couldn't have a happy ending where some hero comes to save the damsel in distress. I never claimed this to be some fairytale.

Opening my eyes one last time, I stared into the eyes of my killer. I should have expected it really.

Mark was looking straight back at me.

The End