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Final Draft


Flooding, searing, sharp, dull, controlling, panic as knives pierce my skin, exhaustion from trying to stay conscious through the pain even though I know at this point I am going to die. There is nothing I can do to stop it beyond fighting. Fighting for my life, as I lay on the basement floor, gagging bile rising in my throat, I fight not to throw up because I know if I do I will choke and die. I try to breathe past the gag because I can smell the sweet tang of blood on the air. A smell that used to be comforting, but now it makes me panic because it’s my blood, my blood, that is sticking in my hair, congealing on my skin from the slender cuts, tiny cuts but painful and eventually fatal if there are enough. I would know; I’m a surgeon I know exactly what the human body is capable of handling. I also know what it can’t handle. I am nearing that point, the point of no return, and the flat line that can’t be shocked back, the time when it is to late to save me from the great beyond. When I die here all I want is to be remembered, because I fought as hard as I could to keep myself alive. Even though I knew I would die here in this tiny room, a ghost of who I was, a skeletal creature that can’t even hold her fragile body up, let alone try to stand and fight for myself. I hang from my shackled wrists not caring that it hurts because I don’t have the strength to even try to take my weight off of the shackles. For the first time since I was kidnapped I let the tears fall, mixing with the blood on my face. I know that he will be able to tell that I have been crying because the tears will slowly etch tracks through the blood,  my blood, on my cheeks. The thought of him knowing how very weak I feet right now makes me shiver. I fight to pull myself together but I can’t, so I just hang there crying and shaking, unable to think past the pain that that shaking is inflicting on my wrists. A part of me wants to give up and let myself fall into the blackness that awaits me, but I know that I need to fight it. He left me here if I can fight it long enough, then my body will heal hopefully enough that I can get out. I don’t know if I can survive this but I am going to try, because I don’t give up. I never have and I never will.

I am too lost in the sound of my own heart beat to hear the noises above me, until a crack rings through the air outside my cement prison. The steel door swings open in front of me. He’s going to kill me because I am of no use to him anymore. I close my eyes hoping that he will think I am unconscious and leave me here.

“Hey I need a medic in here, now!” A female voice yelled.

I opened my eyes to see a figure approaching me, as she holstered a gun and asked, “Miss, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” I gasped. She took one last step toward me, reached out toward me, and put her hand gently on my back. I flinched away. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help, ok?” she said softly. I felt her hand move gently up and down.

“Get me out of here,” I whispered hating how my voice sounded so broken, and so weak. All because some psycho had decided that I was going to be his play toy.

“I will, I promise you, I will,” she said. I felt her move a hand under me and start to lift me, so I rolled toward her. Letting her lift me off the floor was one of the hardest things, because no matter how gentle she was it still hurt like hell. I felt her move, carrying me up out of the basement and out into a waiting ambulance. Black dots consumed my vision and I lost consciousness.

I awoke in a hospital bed, not knowing how long I’d been unconscious or if I was even supposed to be conscious. I wondered what Hospital I was in until James walked in. Then I knew I was home, not my house but the place I belonged, that made me feel safe.

“Hay, you were in pretty bad shape when the cop brought you in, but I fixed you up and you should be back to surgery in a few weeks,” he said.

“Thanks,” I replied.

“You going to tell me what happened?” he asked.

“If I knew the answer to that myself I would but the last thing I remember is coming home from the bar. Then I’m in that room. I have no idea what happened in between,” I told him.

“Well I hope you get better soon I miss seeing you around the floor,” He said before leaving.

Truth be told I remember a little more than that, but I’m not up to sharing it right now. I don’t know that I will ever sleep again because of it.

I lay awake in bed wondering why it was that I could never sleep outside of work. I heard a noise but assumed it had to be my cat in the kitchen. The next thing I knew there was a needle in my arm, and I couldn’t move. I could still feel still sense still see but I couldn’t move.

“I’m going to have fun with you,” Was all he said, but it was all he kneaded to say for me to panic.