From a Nightmare

He watched from a bank of monitors, as she came slowly back to consciousness in the dark room on the other side of the wall. Thanks to the infrared camera, he could see it clearly when panic swept her as she tried to sit up and was unable to. He watched, blood racing, as she struggled against the restraints he had placed across her chest, abdomen, and thighs. As she opened her mouth to scream, he pushed a button turning off the infrared feature on the camera and in the other room, a light blinked on. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the painful brightness, and called out for someone to help her. He couldn’t hear her screaming, but he could watch the horror playing out in her body language. He turned the audio on, and listened with excitement as the girl begged to be let go and returned home. Her screaming pleas only excited him more, and he could feel his muscles tensing with excitement. He picked up his black bag and put on his glasses. It was time to get to work.

She didn’t hear the lock on the door disengage because she was screaming, but she heard the door open and bit back her scream as a he came set down his bag on the stainless steel counter top. It didn’t take her long to find her voice, but it took a few attempts to get a coherent sentence out.

“Who are you?” she tried to sound calm, but there was a shriek underlying the tone. He didn’t answer her, he continued to unpack his bag. She couldn’t see what he was placing on the rolling cart in front of him. “Please, who are you?” she was crying now, he liked this part, next would come the offering of deals. He didn’t answer her, he continued to prepare his tools.

“What do you want? I can give you anything you want, just don’t hurt me. Money? My family has money, do you want me to call them and get you money? ANSWER ME!” Her yell was enough to make his ears bleed, but he made no indication that he had heard her.

“Please,” she whispered between sobs, “please let me go. I just want to go home.”

When he had placed the last instrument on the cart, he zipped closed the black bag and placed it under the counter. He knew she was watching him with terror-filled eyes, so he took his time pulling on the rubber gloves, being sure to snap the glove to his wrist. He knew she would flinch as the glove snapped into place, they always did, it amused him that such a small noise would elicit such a strong physical reaction. He intended to study that further in the future.

Finally ready to begin, he turned the cart and pushed it to the table where the girl was held in place. He watched with intensity as her eyes moved from his face to the cart, she began to scream again as she got a good look at the instruments he had chosen for this occasion.

She couldn’t help herself, she felt her sanity slipping away as she screamed, desperate for someone to hear her. She struggled against the restraining belts that held her down, for a moment her mind flashed to the scene from the movie Mommy Dearest, the one where the young boy was strapped into his bed. A wild laugh ripped from her and she heard the shrill sound of hysteria. She had to get a hold of herself, she would never be able to get out of this if she didn’t calm down, but she couldn’t calm herself. She couldn’t stop the crazed half scream/half laugh that echoed through the room, hurting her own ears.

She noticed that he was now holding a syringe, and that he had gotten closer to her. She pulled away, raging against the restraints, but it was no good. He set down the fluid filled syringe on the table next to her arm, tied off a tourniquet above her elbow, and thumped the crook of her elbow to find a vein. He tore open the packet that contained an alcohol swab, she could smell the astringent odor as he wiped a patch of skin. He picked up the syringe and put the cap between his teeth to pull it off and expose the needle. The prick of the needle made her scream again, but it stopped almost as soon as it began. She felt her body go limp, though she knew she was still struggling to break free of the restraints.

Her captor spoke for the first time, “A little paralytic to keep you still. I want you to know what’s happening for as long as possible, so I can’t sedate you; but I can’t have you thrashing around like a fish out of water. This is a very delicate procedure, Nina. One wrong move and you could die, and I want very much for you to live.”

She could feel the hot tears running down her cheeks, and her eyes blurred from the abundance of tears still to fall. She couldn’t even make herself blink the tears away. He stepped out of her line of vision, and she heard metal clinking against metal. When he reappeared he held something up for her to see. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew it wouldn’t be good.

“I’m going to put this in your mouth to hold it open,” he opened her mouth and she could feel the metal instrument scraping the roof of her mouth. She heard what sounded like the winding of a watch, and felt her jaws being pried further and further apart. The pain surprised her, she had though for a moment that the shot he had given her had made her numb, instead it was her fear that had done so. He stepped back out of sight, and she could hear more scraping of tools as he pushed them around looking for the right one.

“Now this is going to hurt a bit, but it is necessary.” The scalpel glinted in the light overhead, and she tried to scream as he leaned in closer. With his left hand he held a pair of tongs, he grabbed her tongue and pulled it out of her mouth so far that it felt as though it were bring ripped from her. The first cut with the scalpel didn’t hurt like she expected it to, the pain came with the second slice. He was cutting out her tongue, he was cutting out her tongue and she couldn’t even turn her head away to stop him. He continued as though he was sawing through a piece of wood.

The pain was so intense that she felt herself start to blackout when he finally removed the muscle from her mouth. His smile was empty and chilled her blood. He held the severed appendage up for her to see, her stomach roiled and she tried to close her eyes. He smiled again and opened her clenched fist. She felt the tongue, her tongue, being pressed into her hand; it was still warm. He was pouring something into her mouth before she realized it, and the burning sensation brought tears back to her eyes.

“A little disinfectant. It won’t hurt for long.” He said as he set the bottle on the cart. “Don’t worry, we’re almost done now. Not much longer.”

She heard the sound of a watch being wound again, and he removed the appliance from her mouth. He pressed her lips together, leaning over to brush his lips across hers. She wanted to scream and tried to, but again there was no response from any part of her body except her brain. He stood up and put the appliance on the table next to her head. He reached back down and when he brought his hand back up, he was holding a long curved needle.

The pain kept the reality of what was coming from sinking in. She felt the prick of the needle on her lower lip, and had only a moment to steel herself against the onslaught of pain. As the needle pushed through the soft tissue of the bottom lip, she could hear him humming. He parted her lips slightly to look at his work before closing them again and pushing the curved needle through her top lip.

She had to wake up, it was time to wake up. This was a nightmare and it was time for it to be over. She kept telling herself to wake the fuck up, but as he pulled the thread through to start the next stitch, she knew she would soon go to sleep, and would never ever wake up again. He took his time, never yanking the needle or thread, he was trying to be delicate. After what felt like forever, he took scissors and cut the thread. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"Now," he said smiling, "You're all prepped and ready to go. Let's get started shall we?"