Anamnesis

Her screams echo through the halls. I hear her words clearly but I do not understand them. Fog covers every thought and picture that swims through my brain. Doctors rush past me not bothering to cover their faces. I do not remember them the moment they are out of my vision. Just an imprint, a blur, makes its mark upon my memory.

“Someone shut her up,” someone hisses. They are so close to my ear that I jump. Cold hands grab my shoulders and push me back down on the table. The metal is hard against my bare skin and it is heated to an extraordinarily high temperature. I can feel the skin begin to burn.

I want to know what they are doing but they are under strict orders not to speak to me. It’s an order that the man in the grey suit continues to repeat each time something as small as one word is uttered to me. He is new. At least, I think he is new. I have never seen his grey suit before; I do not think I have. All that plagues my memory is white coats, nothing but white. This color change throws me off though I cannot imagine why.

His face is pinched; lips drawn together in a tight white line. I try to remember each little feature but each time I glance his way, his face terrifies me. Black eyes watch closely over the proceedings which I am unaware of. Each time his eyes land on mine, he glares and his upper lip lifts in a sneer. A shiver runs through my spine and I look away. The process has been repeated many times since I was dragged into this room.

A sharp pain slices through my abdomen and a cry bubbles up past my lips. Two hands clasp over my mouth in attempts to silence the one and only scream that I have uttered. Or have I been screaming this entire time? No, the screaming still continues though my mouth is clamped shut. Words I do not understand are echoing through the room.

“If someone doesn’t shut her up we will have a riot,” a man to my left says angrily. A vein is popping in his neck. I zero in on the pulsing vein wondering if it is blood or something else that keeps this man alive. Monsters such as these, ones that cause pain, cannot be alive like I am. They cannot feel pain as I do. They must be immune; unaware of the ice cold heat that is melting my skin.

The man who covers my mouth smiles warmly down at me. His dark hair falls into his face. Something in my mind clicks. Do I know this man? I do not think so but he smiles at me like he knows me. Like we are old friends. If I knew what friends were I may consider him one. “President,” he speaks calmly. I feel sadness when he turns to the monster in the grey suit. “Perhaps you would like to see one of our more exciting patients. This is just a standard procedure to see how long a patient can remain with us before succumbing.”

Succumbing? Though I have no recollection of the meaning, it cannot be good. The way the man speaks of it was as if it was a travesty. Pain is what it sounds like. If it is anything like the fire hot burning then I hope that succumbing is something that is not in my future.

The man in grey, obviously important as the man covering my mouth called him Mr.… Master…something I do not quite remember, nods and places his hand on the doorknob leading out of the boiling room. He turns for just a second, his cold eyes landing on mine. “She needs to be watched, there is something wrong with her,” he speaks slowly and darkly. I am afraid.

I can hear the dull thuds of the man leaving the room. There is a slam from somewhere behind me and he is gone. The men around me ease. I can see their shoulders sag and their mouths let out long breaths. I do not understand why they would feel relief. They are the ones with the lab coats. They will not be succumbing.

“Dee,” the man with his hands on my mouth says. His voice is familiar, warm and soft. Brown eyes are staring at me, wide and urgent. It is as if he is hoping for something, hoping I can give him something. I try to think of something to tell him but I can only focus on the pain.

It’s growing hotter, inching its way in all directions from where it starts in my belly. I want to scream but the heavy hand on my mouth keeps my lips together. My chest is aching with lack of oxygen but I cannot breathe. My mouth is covered but my nose is not. Yet I cannot find it in me to take a breath. Is this what succumbing means? Allowing myself to feel this pain without doing anything? Do they want me to do something?

There is something warm and wet on my cheeks. It’s water that slides from my eyes, over my skin, and falls sideways onto the table I am laying on. I do not understand why this is happening. My body has sprung a leak and I am losing more than what I think these people want.

The man above me continues to stare. His eyes soften but his lips are pursed tightly together. He glances to the others around but no one notices him. They are much too busy with whatever they are doing near my stomach.

Something dull is pushed into my body and I hear another scream. It is muffled by the man’s hands but I wish it wasn’t. These men seem to want me to scream. I can see it in their eyes when I begin to move around. They look happy, if glittering eyes and toothy grins are what it means to be happy.

They continue to prod around my stomach.

“Hang in there, Dee.” That man’s voice is softer now, much quieter than my screams. His words are encouragement that I do not understand. There is nothing around to grip. My fingers are not working. I do not know where my hands are. Instead of staring at the man I look away.

There are hands in my stomach. I can see them digging around in my flesh. The sound is wet and fleshy as they move my insides around. There is red everywhere, leaking over my skin. Blood. I feel it pooling around my back. It’s warmer than the metal table but cooler than the searing heat within my abdomen.

It hurts. I know this is pain and I have felt it before. I try to remember. I try to take myself back to when I last felt as if I was being torn in two. It’s only fleeting images and the sounds of whimpers. There is nothing else. Nothing but pain.

I can feel them now. All these men with their hands in my skin. Their fingers are moving. With each wiggle my skin tears, sending sharp jolts through my body. Screaming will not make them stop, it only gives them the ability to continue. I so desperately want them to stop but I do not know what will make them.

The edges around my mind are going black. I no longer hear the noises of them men rooting around within me. There is a dull buzzing sound coming from somewhere that I do not understand. No one else seems to hear it but it is growing louder.

The man above me whispers something but the screaming in my head is louder. He is slowly disappearing as the black edges rapidly grow larger. They are eating away at everything that I can see until there is nothing left. I can no longer see.

My breathing resumes. I can feel my chest move violently as air rushes into my lungs. And then I cannot feel anything. I cannot hear anything.

It is black and silent.