I stare at the wall blankly, waiting for the fluffy duckling wallpaper to change in some way. I've been waiting for weeks. Weeks and weeks and weeks of staring at a wall, my wrists strapped down with leather.
SOMEONE HELP, PLEASE, IT HURTS, IT HURTS!
I'd "woken up" long after the surgery, the muted yellow plaster the first thing I remember. The next thing I remembered isn't so pleasant: parts of the surgery came back to me in bits and pieces, flashing white and red in my head. That's when I'd started clawing at the staples holding my organs in.
Please,,,PLEASE STOP,
The surgery was a success and hell, they say I'll live an upward of 10 years. But what they don't tell me is the fact my ♡ rate has been accelerated ever since then and my adrenaline levels are unusually high. An effect of being gutted like a cow I suppose and being aware for the entirety of the experience. I don't think that's the only reason I'm here. Somewhere in between I snapped, but whether it was before or after the surgery, I wouldn't know. The nurses see it in my eyes every time they pass by to check whatever it is they're checking. The detached way I look at anything until I light up with rage and fear from every memory that surfaces.
STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP,,,
♡♡♡
YOU ARE READING
A Porcelain ♡
HorrorA normal human ♡ might be described as a forest. So maybe you assume it's noisy and full of life. Now picture this: a silent city block devoid of much else besides slugs and mosquitos. That's my ♡.
