Groan. Crash. Snap…
Damn. I always liked Friederich…
The cold winter air lashed against my cold, naked body. Frederick hung loosely under the tall, barren tree, gasping desperately for the air that would save his life. He kicked and kicked, stifling grotesque noises of his guttural gasps. For a few moments, he twitched helplessly, dangling from his rope burned neck over the ice cold snow. After a minute he ceased motion, swinging lifelessly from side to side, making the tree branch above him groan from the excess weight.
Well, I thought, Frederick may be gone, but at least he’s nice and warm in hell… I get to freeze my ass off here in the snow until it’s my turn. Two gargantuan figures hobbled towards the next in line.
Standing here without clothes made me chuckle at first. How ironic could it possibly get? They’re warm and fat, probably from eating our leftover field rations. And me? You practically could’ve counted my ribs from 20 feet away. I couldn’t tell if this was some sort of poetic justice between me and the big man, or if this is all just a big joke.
“Peter Spielman…” A heavily accented voice called out, interrupting my train of thought. “You are being charged with crimes against humanity and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. How do you plead?” The man facing them stared directly into their eyes. He was stoic, but his shaking body gave the impression that he was frozen in fear. His teeth chattered as he began to speak. Two words, just like all the other men, escaped his lips.
“…N-not g-g-guilty.” The two men exchanged glances before the one on the right let out a small chuckle.
“Oh, that’s just too bad. You should think better than to lie before you die. I don’t think your savior has great opinion over non repentant sinners, does he? Well, enjoy your afterlife Peter Spielman. Have fun in the deepest trench of hell…”
With that, the man commenced to begin kicking at the tiny wooden chair underneath the Peter. It took a few tries, but the now sobbing man hung limply from the tall, dead tree. He was lucky. The fall broke his neck. His body, though, deemed it necessary to bump into me several times. I almost wanted to yell for him to quit it, but then I remembered that he probably couldn’t hear me… wherever he was. The two men continued their path toward the end of the tree limb, stopping directly in front of me.
“…Took you long enough,” I spat. The two men exchanged glances before returning to their duty. The one who had been doing all the speaking checked a small piece of paper in his coat.
“…Hmmm. This one doesn’t have a name recorded.”
“Does it really matter?” I deadpanned.
He gave another curious glance, an eyebrow raised high. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was scaring him, almost. “I guess not… So, Mr…”
“Paul.” I stated.
“Paul… You have been charged with crimes against humanity and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. How do you plead?” Both men looked interested in what I had to say. For a moment, I hesitated. Even if I knew I was innocent, would that really change anything? What would I gain by telling the truth on my death-branch?
“…Guilty,” I said.
His face was cocked in disbelief. “The truth for once! Who would have known you ‘perfect race’ could have be so humble? You know what? I kind of like you.” He smiled. “In fact, if I wasn’t told I had to do this… well I probably still would, but I like you more than your friend hanging right there. Hey, how about this. I usually don’t do this sort of thing, but I’m willing to humor you. Go ahead. What’s your final request?”
I looked down toward the snow covered ground. Should I ask for my freedom? Should I ask for a second chance to prove that I didn’t do it? Should I ask to eat one last meal? I glanced back at the man who was impatiently waiting for a response.
“Pull the rope tighter, please… I want my neck to snap faster.”
He gave me a light smile. “Now that…I can do.” He tenderly walked behind me and reached his hands up to the rope that hung loosely around my neck. He gave it a quick tug and it clung tightly against my throat. My heart was racing and I could feel my eyes becoming moist. All too long I had joked that I would die before all this was over. Frederick, Peter, Heinrich… All of them gone. They had joked too…
I cleared my throat as the Russian who had not been speaking raised a leg toward me. With one feeble kick, he tore the chair out from underneath me. The chilly air seemed to blow harder than before and my stomach churned from the unusual feeling of weightlessness. The rope tightened.
My neck ached and burned with a feeling that I had never imagined. It was as if I was being choked by two men, each reaching around my entire neck and refusing to let go. I thrashed my legs as hard as I could, desperately trying to get some sort of hold. My lungs ached for more breath, violently screaming at my brain to offer the one thing that would save their lives. My eyes grew wide and my face beat red. I could only see the two coated men turn, walking away as I struggled to break free from the course, chafing grasp.
This is it, I thought. This is how I die.
My vision started to dull and my eyelids closed over my bulging eyeballs. I let out a small choking grunt. Not terrible last words, if I do say so myself. With my vision gone, I began feeling the world around me unlike I had ever felt it. The cold wind soothed my burning body, not freezing it in a nipping frost. The tree rustled and groaned an incredible orchestra of life, twitching and cracking in the cool winter wind. The snow felt chilly, but like the wind, still soothing…
The snow… It felt wet. It felt hard. It felt like it was covering the ground.
My eyes shot open, revealing the barren field of snow and craters that I had once been given the unfortunate job of tending to after the tide had turned. I didn’t realize it until I could see blood that I had been coughing uncontrollably. My neck ached and burned worse than it had before, but it still felt as if a load had been lifted. I writhed on the ground, unable to catch my breath as the snow cooled my fevered face and body.
I was free.
My sight became fixed on the sky as I lay on the ground, panting like a dog. Above me, the tree branch where I was hanged snapped at the trunk, falling to the ground and dropping its heavy load into the snow. For a few moments, I wanted to shriek in joy. To jump up and down, even if I knew it would be short lived. I had been so accepting of death, but when it came I was frightened. It hurts a lot more than you would think.
My breathing slowed and I tilted my head sideways to my fellow soldiers. They lay sleeping in the snow, unaware of the gracious deed they have done for me.
“Thank you... my friends…” I called out in a hushed tone. My voice sounded shrill and barely a sound escaped my lips. They could hear me though, I was sure of it.
“Hey!” A voice screamed. I flipped my head towards the voice. Two chubby men were waddling towards me, one with his hands flailing about, and the other with his hands grasping a small gun.
That was all the incentive I needed. My muscles burned as I commanded them to bring me upright. Before I knew it, I was on my feet, drunkenly hobbling away from my captors. There was no way I would let them put me in that tree again. I ran and ran, my hands still bound together in the course rope that left burn marks around my neck. My feet lost feeling as the blistering cold was replaced by numbness.
Bang…
Scalpal, I thought you said machete!
“…Nurse I need the sedative…I don’t care, we’re going to lose him if we don’t do this right now…Fine, you grab his legs. Spec, you grab the arms. This won’t work if he thrashes around…” The voice was frantic and I could feel the sense of urgency slipping from his tongue. The clatter of metal pans and people fumbling around encompassed the room, which only added to the massive headache I had. I felt the need to get up and open my eyes, revealing the tense situation of which I had awoken to, but four heavy points of pressure held me down. I began to panic.
“Doctor, he’s awake!” I pulled and pulled on my restraints, desperately trying to gain break free. My muscles ached and my entire chest burned.
“Horseapples, okay, we can’t wait any longer. He’s going to die if we don’t start this right now. If I’m right, he should pass out after a minute or two.” I pulled harder, but still, the nurses wouldn’t give.
Suddenly, my body seized up. I could feel the tip of cold metal begin to poke my stomach. At first it was slowly pushing down, but after a moment, the pressure built around a single area. I desperately tried sucking in my stomach and tightening my abs before I was cut, but before I could go any farther, more pain gouged my mind. I remember screaming, begging for him to cease his intrusion.
Pain. That was all I could feel. The blade had penetrated the skin. My thoughts coalesced into one single thought… well, it was more like one single scream. I was helplessly thrashing around, too feeble to break free, but still strong enough to stay awake. My limbs were held in place, but my body wasn’t. I hopped up and down as best I could, frantically flaying myself around the metal table which produced a cacophony of bangs and the muffled grunts of nurses trying to hold me down. The sharp metal began to cut further down my body, causing me to scream louder than before. My breathing became erratic and I wailed as the blade refused to stop.
Suddenly, I felt something clamp around my mouth. I tried and tried, but whatever was on my head glued my lips together. My muffled cries were stifled but from my breathing, I could tell I was crying. The metal knife was gone, but something else took its place. I felt something bigger push my skin apart and begin to go inside of me. I tried and tried, but it was becoming harder to get out of my captor’s grasp. My eyes remained blinded, but my mind became flooded with a blurry dull feeling. I let out my last muffled moan and passed out.
~~~
The moment I woke up, I immediately wished I hadn’t. I didn’t feel pain so much as a terrible itch that ran along my stomach and into my eyes. That and also the racking soreness that took hold of my body and refused to let it go. I tried to push my arms towards my face to soothe my bothered itch, but again, I found them bound in place. Even though I had just woken up, I felt more tired than I had ever been in my life. A coupling soreness met my drowning eyelids. I couldn’t see anything but I knew my eyes were open. A thick, wet cloth grasped my head, refusing to fall off no matter how many times I bobbed my head. I took in a breath.
Immediately, my throat closed and a wild spewing of coughs filled the room. It burned as I desperately tried to expunge liquid from my lungs, unsuccessfully so. I knew my coughs were loud when all of the sudden I heard a door fly open and two sets of loud, banging footsteps enter the room.
“…Doctor! Get Doctor Flint!” The voice was barely audible over my choking gasps. The two people came closer. “…Shh… It’s alright. Just get it all out.” I let out another round of coughs, feeling sick to my stomach.
“The Doctor will be here soon, just relax. Everything’s going to be okay.” I could feel her begin to stroke my arm as I continued to fight for a decent breath. It had gotten better after a few moments, but every once in a while, I let out another whooping cough. Eventually, another pair of people banged into the room and stopped somewhere near the bed. I could hear them sift through a few sheets of paper as they gathered their thoughts.
“Nurse, I want you to go get Herb. I need her to provide our patient here with a heavy pain killer.” With that, two people left the room and the other two remained. One had yet to speak but I knew how many there were. Eventually, the Doctor cleared his throat.
“So how are you feeling, son?” I let out another whooping cough and tried moving my lips. Many questions flashed through my mind. Wait a second? They’re not speaking Russian. That’s… English. How could I have been captured by someone on the western front when I’ve never even seen it? My mind instantly became filled with relief. I was taken by the Americans… or possibly the British. Somehow I felt as if a load had been lifted and aside from the physical pain, I felt joy.
Americans don’t kill German POWs, I thought.
I had learned English in my youth as with many other languages, but it had been a while since I had actually practiced it. Taking in a deep breath, I prepared to speak.
“…W-what *cough* happened to me?” I asked.
“Wel-“
I cut him off. “Why can’t I see?” The man let out a small chuckle.
“It’s not your eyes that are the problem, sport. Those will be fine in a couple days. It’s those lungs of yours I’m worried about.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “My lungs?”
"Well… Actually, I wouldn’t call them both your lungs. One of them is, but the other is… a transplant.” I looked out into nothingness in disbelief. Sudden realizations began to hit me. The feeling of cold metal. The sound of screaming out in pain. The weight of nurses holding me down as they sliced me open and cut out a lung.
I shuddered at the thought and my heart sank into my chest. I could feel its soft beating turn into a heavy drumming.
“Don’t worry about the coughing. That’s just some excess fluids draining from when we took it out of the jar. You should begin to breathe normally after a few hours.” I could feel him move closer as I felt something touch my shoulder. I was still sore but it didn’t hurt too badly.
“You’re a strong one, that’s for sure. I don’t know if you can remember it, but you lasted much longer than I ever thought possible.”
I turned my head to the source of the voice. “I-I remember…” I whispered, feeling my eyes start to tear up. The man didn’t reply but I could still feel his presence. I had no idea where the other person in the room was, but I hadn’t heard them leave so they were obviously still watching me. Another nurse perhaps, or maybe a MP sent to watch over me.
My eyes still itched horribly, but I knew if I tried to scratch them it would only make things worse. It didn’t make the feeling go away though. I could just imagine the soothing feeling of gently stroking the afflicted areas with my hand. Taking gentle care to use my nail on my middle finger to…
I felt around again. And again. This time on both hands. And then I began to shout.
It wasn’t so much a shout as a blur of words in my native tongue. I’m sure the Doctor was just about to tell the MP to shut me up somehow, but I felt something else. I felt the stroking touch on my left shoulder, caressing me into a state of calmness. I stopped thrashing around and allowed myself to breathe. My feeling of hope had been drained upon the realization that I no longer had fingers or toes. I continued to try and flex them or feel something, but every time I did, nothing happened. I began to sob.
“What happened to me?” I asked him.
“…I’m not sure. I-I just performed the surgery. I didn’t find you.” I let out another cry and laid my head down on a pillow. Immediately I became filled with rage. I was supposed to die back there and now I have to live my life as a cripple. No hands or feet? I’ll have to live assisted for the rest of my life, unable to even eat by myself. I began to get angry.
“Y-you… did this to me. You took them, didn’t you,” I said weakly.
“What?” He responded. “Took what?”
I felt too weak to thrash around, but I still had enough to look back at where the voice was coming from.
“My hands! Where are my hands?” I didn’t get a reply, but instead two people came running in and stopped in front of the bed. I heard a gasp and they took a step closer.
“Thank you nurse, now I need you to give him an anesthetic spell that will keep him out for the night. He’s hallucinating and I don’t want him to wake up any other patients while I’m gone.”
Wait, what did he just say?
Instantly, I felt a warmth surround me and soothe my weary muscles. My itches went away and the soreness in my stomach subsided. I’m sure my mouth was hanging wide open, but I didn’t feel the need to close it. My head hit my pillow, and darkness turned into nothingness.
Stop cutting yourself, stop cutting yourself
View Online
Stop cutting yourself, stop cutting yourself
The wind was freezing and even under a heavy coat, I was still shivering. I looked out over a sea of people, each stripped naked and forced to stand at attention. They were told they were getting de-loused, but really it was a veiled attempt to separate them from their possessions and group them into labor units. I stood silently, listening to the yells of fellow officers and the screams of women clinging to their children who were being herded to their own section of the camp. I took a long drag of my cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. It had taken a while, but I had finally stopped caring. At first, having this job was something that kept me up at night, refusing to allow my eyes to close without images flashing through my mind. The other men joked about the people in the courtyard and even the fact that they didn’t care what happened to them. I had thought them to be evil… but now I understand what they mean. Looking at them still gave me an uneasy feeling, but at least I could sleep at night.
Just as I was about to turn around and head in to the barracks, I heard a scream behind me. I turned around and was quickly bombarded by a young lady. I reached for my gun, but then I realized that she wasn’t attacking me; she was begging me. I stared at her and she grappled onto my coat, her naked body against me. She kept repeating the same thing over and over again.
“My daughter, my daughter! Don’t let them take her away!” I just stared at her, not knowing exactly what to do. Her eyes were filled with tears but she refused to quit jostling me. I didn’t push her off… how could I?
Suddenly, I felt her cold body leave me. She was on the ground, lying on her back in the snow. I almost began to reach down and help her up, but a sharp bang rang out. Her body jumped up a bit, but then ceased its movement all together. I stared at her. The blood pooled on the ground and spread out in all directions. I took another drag of my cigarette, flicked it into the snow near the body, and began my walk to the barracks.
~~~
The room was silent except for the soft chirping of birds. I felt a cool breeze roll over me and I let out a sigh of relief. I could feel pools of sweat on the bed sheets and beading down my forehead. I shuddered at the thought of the dream I had just had. It had kept me up for weeks and was part of the reason I filed for insomnia with our camp doctor. It was by far the most common illness our soldiers faced and honestly, no one really did anything to fix it. Sometimes sleeping medication was given out, but most of the time, we were just told to attend church and try to clear whatever burdened our conscience. Well, I never took any sleeping pills…
The pain in my stomach was somewhat better, but it still ached as if I had been in a fight with a dwarf. The itching had stopped, but I could definitely feel the cloth still draped over my head.
Even though the itching stopped, I still felt very antsy. I didn’t like not knowing where I was and my mind pleaded for me to open my eyes. I pulled my arm up and once again, was stopped by restraints. It felt like course rope that was pulled as tight as it could go. It was clear that these people did not want me to escape.
And then a realization dawned on me. Oh yeah, I don’t have hands anymore. I flexed my muscles again, desperately trying to feel them. Perhaps they had just fallen asleep last night and I would feel the gangly appendages twiddling about in the air. Sadly, I did not. I almost wanted to cry, but in all honesty, I felt like I was out of tears to shed.
For a moment, I contemplated what to do next, but my solutions were limited at best. I could try to escape, but for one thing, even if I did get out of these harnesses and on my feet, I probably would have a hard time opening the door… that is, if they didn’t leave it locked.
I was tired, and at the time, my body urged me to just give up. I obliged.
“Hello?” I called out in a very hoarse voice. It sounded as if I had been yelling, but it was probably just from being choked a few days ago…
“Hello?” I said louder. “Is anyone there?” There was a muffled voice coming from outside the door and it promptly opened up after my call. Two people walked in. Why is it always two people? Do the military police always accompany visitors into a POWs room? And what was with their feet? It sounded as if they were wearing clogs.
They stopped in front of the bed. “Hello son, how are you today?” It was the same doctor that I spoke to before.
I gave a weak answer. “I feel… better.”
“Well that’s good. I was worried you would never wake up. You’ve been asleep for nearly two days.”
Two days? Has it really been that long?
“By the way, can you tell me where you’re from? I’m not sure I can identify that accent. I don’t have anything down in your chart… oh, and can I get your name too?”
“Dusseldorf,” I replied instinctively before immediately regretting what I had said. They didn’t know who I was and I may have just given away my only way out of this.
My head swam, but a thought began to tug at my head as if to politely request that I ask the doctor something.
“What are you going to do with me?” I asked. The room suddenly became quiet. The tension between the three of us was thick. I could tell.
“What am I going to do with you? What do you mean, sport? I’m not going to do anything to you. You’ve already had your surgery.” I wanted to give him a stern look to show him that I didn’t appreciate his joke, but my face was still covered by the sweated soaked cloth.
I sighed. “I mean… what is your friend standing there going to do with me?”
The doctor moved around a bit, obviously looking at the MP for an answer.
“Who?” He lied.
Anger filled my voice. “You damn well know who! The MP that’s here to make sure I don’t kill anyone. The one that’s going to take me to a camp as soon as I can walk! The one who’s been watching me this whole time!” I breathed heavily, catching my breath after my outburst.
I felt something touch my shoulder where it had been caressed earlier. The same stroking motion was applied as I calmed down. It felt good.
“Calm down son… Everything’s going to be alright. I don’t know where you were before they found you, but I promise that no one is here to hurt you. All I care about is for you to get better so you can go back home to your family.”
My family… Momma and Papa.
I felt tears begin to form in my eyes. They were home in Dusseldorf, hopefully safe from all of the war. It had been two years since I had left to volunteer. I never said goodbye.
“T-thank you,” I said. My mouth tried to form more words, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I chalk it up to fatigue. “Thank you,” I finished.
He gave me a light pat, obviously taking care not to put me in too much pain.
“Now,” he said. “I know you’re probably really antsy to get out of bed, but I can’t let you undo all of your stitches. But how about we take off your face bandages. I think the cuts have healed by now and I know you want to see where you are.” I nodded in reply, eager to finally see the man who had saved my life.
I felt a soft jostling as he struggled to untie the cloth around my face. I felt the sweaty rag taken away and instantly, a soft breeze rolled over my clammy face. Slowly, I struggled to open my eyes and one by one they popped open, having been sealed shut by dried tears. My vision came into focus and a large white figure came into view.
It was small room that resembled an old hospital. An itchy looking green blanket covered my body so I couldn’t see my handless limbs. Around the room I could see various instruments that all looked relatively bloody from use… probably on me. On the table beside me, I could see a small scalpel that felt eerily familiar to me, though I had never seen it before.
Before me stood a small white horse, leaning over the side of the bed and eyeing me curiously. It didn’t look quite like a horse though. It looked sort of… creepier. It had larger eyes and what looked like a smile across its muzzle.
Maybe this was the sound of clogs, I thought. A strange image of the doctor riding in on this thing crossed my mind. It almost made me laugh. Who brings a horse into a hospital?
It was a little bit strange, but honestly, I was more disturbed that the doctor who I had just heard was no longer there.
“Hey. Where did you go?” I called out. The small horse shook his head a little bit. He looked very sympathetic.
“…I’m sorry sport, I didn’t know you lost your vision.”
My heart began to sink. With a look of horror, I shifted my gaze to the white horse who seemed to be checking some papers in his hooves. It just occurred to me that he was wearing a lab coat… and a stethoscope. My pulse hastened its tempo and I started to panic.
“W-w-what the hell!?!” This outburst seemed to catch the doctor’s attention as he looked at me curiously. “D-did you j-just talk?” I was shaking uncontrollably.
“Yes,” he replied. “So you can see? I thought you just said you couldn’t.” He noticed my shivering. “Just calm down sport, you’re going to have a heart attack.”
“You’re a horse!” I shouted.
He gave me an angry look. “I’m not a horse, thank you very much. I’m a pony.”
“You can talk!” I stated.
“Of course I can talk. Why wouldn’t I be able to speak? I’m not a mute, and you’ve been talking to me for ten minutes.” Even though his muzzle was moving and words were coming from it, it still didn’t make it any more believable.
“You’re an animal! You shouldn’t be able to talk!”
“What are you going on about?” This time, I believe he had a look of disbelief on his face. “Everypony can talk. I mean, you’re talking right now,” he deadpanned.
“I know I’m talking! I should be able to speak, but you… you’re a fucking pony!” My language seemed to make him cringe. He looked puzzled at my comments… or at least I thought he was.
“I think you may have suffered some severe head trauma… You’re not making any sense.” I was about to respond, but then I realized what he said made sense.
I was hallucinating. I wasn’t talking to a pony, it’s just that I thought I was. Something must have hit my head pretty hard for me to see this. Now the question is: Am I really talking to a doctor, or is this still some figment of my imagination? I decided that I would still treat it as if I were talking to a real doctor; just one with hooves. I let out a weak laugh.
“Doctor,” I said before letting out another chuckle. “I think you’re right. I am seeing things. For a second, I thought I was actually speaking to a pony! That would be ridiculous.”
He turned back to me, having been trying to make his way to the door. “Son… what in Celestia’s name are you talking about?”
“I said, I thought you were a pony!” I let out another large chortle. This time, it hurt my chest which was still pretty sore.
“I think you’re a little more delusional than I thought… Maybe you just need some more sleep.”
I stopped him. “Actually, do you think I could get out of bed?” I was suddenly very serious, even though it was pretty ridiculous to be talking to a pony. “I’m pretty antsy and I’ve been lying in a puddle of sweat since I woke up.
He looked at me with a face that displayed contemplation. Without another word, he trotted (ha) and rolled down the blanket that had been covering me.
And that’s when I started to panic again.
“Was zum Teufel!?” I started. The doctor only stared at me. I, however, was busy standing at my body. Small, grey, and covered in fur…
“I… what…” I was speechless. I suddenly began to feel something else. I could feel the short hairs bristling against the sheets. I could feel the furry tickle around my lips. I could feel the panic button being broken in my head. This was no hallucination.
“I-I’m a pony?” I asked no one in particular.
“Yes? Did you not know you were a pony?” The doctor eyed me suspiciously.
“NO! I AM NOT A PONY?!”
He continued to watch me. “Son, I don’t know what happened to you, but you most definitely are a pony. Actually, you’re a unicorn to be more accurate. What exactly happened to you out there?”
“Shut up!” I snapped. “Unicorns don’t exist! You don’t exist! You shouldn’t be talking right now and I should be dead! This is all some sort of dream. Yeah, it has to be a dream. I’m not really talking to a pony, I’m not really in a hospital, and I am most definitely not a unicorn!”
I realized just how loud I was screaming when two other ponies, one pink and one yellow, filed into the room. They looked concerned over me and looked at the doctor inquisitively. He waved them off, turning back to me. It had been about a minute from my moment of panic and I couldn’t stop looking at my body. My… fur was light grey and you could easily make out the stitches across my stomach and up into my chest. At the bottom, they were beginning to pop and a tiny bit of blood was beginning to ooze from the wound. I breathed heavily, trying to gather some air before going off on another line of shouts and questions. The doctor, however, came very close to me. Once again, he placed his hoof on my shoulder.
“Sport, you need to calm down. Now, I can’t help you if you don’t stop yelling at me. So, are you done or should I get the nurse in here to cast an anesthetic spell on you again?” I looked at him in the eyes. They were…warm in a way. Much too big, but warm. He turned his head and noticed the blood seeping from my stomach and quickly covered it with a rag. It hurt a little bit, but he put a small amount of pressure on it. I winced.
“A-are you… really a p-pony?” I asked.
“Yes, son. And you are too. Now, I know you’re just a little afraid right now and I think it has something to do with what happened before we found you; but I need you to just calm down while I re-suture these wounds. Do you think you can do that for me?” His voice was deep and pervaded a sense of ease to the area around him. It just felt… right to trust him. I gave him a weak nod.
With that, he reached over to the bedside table and picked up a long metallic tool with a hooked needle on the end. Using his teeth, he began to carefully navigate the needle until it lined up with the cut. I winced as he made the first prick. My stomach was still very sensitive so it probably hurt worse than if it were just a normal cut. After a few minutes of needlework, he put the tool away and cut the string with his teeth. I let out a sigh of relief and he once again returned to my side.
“Okay, now that you’re all sewn up again, I think it’s time for you to sleep. You look as if someone bucked you in the head. Does that sound fine to you?” He was very careful with his words. He did not want to set me off again.
I took in a deep breath, but no words found their way through my mouth. I realized just how tired I was when I yawned. I gave him a nod and let my head fall completely into my pillow. With the blanket off, I wasn’t quite so hot, but the fur kept me warm. Sleep beckoned to me, begging to join it in its lazy slumber. I obliged.
