The Good Doctor
1/1
My eyes flickered open. It was dark, and I could feel the resistance against my every attempt at movement. I blinked rapidly, wishing I could just reach my glasses. I couldn’t see anything. The shadows in the corners of the room were blurred and distorted, looking for all the world like demons reaching out from the darkest pits of hell, hungering after my soul. My cool bed sheets felt soft against my spread palms. I felt a chill run the length of my spine, and I looked down to see my legs bare.
It was strange, I could have sworn I’d worn pants to bed. The air against them felt like ice. I shivered. Then I saw the restraints, like the ones used on dangerous criminals that require medical treatment. I began to struggle against them, and I heard a soft voice comforting me. I glanced over at its origin, and saw a man with a surgical mask on, looped gently across the bridge of his nose.
The good Doctor touched my face gently, with a kind look in his eyes. I felt an instant of cool, precise pain on the outside of my right knee, and then it burst into fire. I glanced down, and my knee was covered in red. So much red. Red everywhere. My eyes grew wide, and my struggles against the restraints increased. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound was heard, and I knew that nobody would come to the rescue anyway. I looked at the good Doctor’s hand. He was holding some surgical saw, pressing it in between my kneecap and my femur. He began a gentle sawing motion, and I could feel every fiber of tendon and ligament individually snap as the saw cut through them. My leg was on fire.
The pain never lessened. It never decreased in intensity or reality until my eyes opened to the warm, numbing embrace of the sun.
It was strange, I could have sworn I’d worn pants to bed. The air against them felt like ice. I shivered. Then I saw the restraints, like the ones used on dangerous criminals that require medical treatment. I began to struggle against them, and I heard a soft voice comforting me. I glanced over at its origin, and saw a man with a surgical mask on, looped gently across the bridge of his nose.
The good Doctor touched my face gently, with a kind look in his eyes. I felt an instant of cool, precise pain on the outside of my right knee, and then it burst into fire. I glanced down, and my knee was covered in red. So much red. Red everywhere. My eyes grew wide, and my struggles against the restraints increased. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound was heard, and I knew that nobody would come to the rescue anyway. I looked at the good Doctor’s hand. He was holding some surgical saw, pressing it in between my kneecap and my femur. He began a gentle sawing motion, and I could feel every fiber of tendon and ligament individually snap as the saw cut through them. My leg was on fire.
The pain never lessened. It never decreased in intensity or reality until my eyes opened to the warm, numbing embrace of the sun.
♠ ♠ ♠
That's it. It's probably not scary at all to anyone else, but it terrified me. There's not going to be any more, unless the good Doctor stars in another one of my worst nightmares.