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"Red Nails" (continued)
coverings
of skin, fat and muscle have (in places) been stripped away, revealing
parts of my stomach, intestines and liver. Bits of flesh that had
once helped to house the organs of my abdominal cavity now lay bleeding
on the polished-wood floor. I feel cold, a result of losing heat through
being robbed of sections of my fat tissue which intermingle with the
other meat on the floor. Sickly, yellow pieces of fat are also stuck
to my legs but they slowly turn red as blood from my wounds run over
them.
Still naked, she turns away from me and walks towards the door. She puts a piece of paper down on the small table by the door then flicks the light-switch. I hear the door close. I'm now in total darkness, crucified, flogged, and cold. I start to feel myself slipping away from the wall. I feel the nails pass through the holes in my wrists. I feel myself falling forward. I put my hands out to protect my face but it's too late, my head hits the floor and so do my punctured wrists, sending shots of agonising pain up through my arms.
My ankles are still fastened to the wall by the large nails. I take a deep breath and writhe my legs away from the wall, they come free and I scream in agony. It's too painful to put any pressure on my ankles, so it's impossible to stand. I roll over three times towards the bedside table, it hits my shoulder. I reach out and try to clutch onto the table leg to pull myself up but the pain in my wrists makes it |