Page 16 of Tainted Serenity

The words he says cause a feeling of discomfort to wash over me like an icy wave from Antarctica. It’s something so sinister about them, and that, along with the way he looks at me, makes me shudder. He stands in front of me with a towering presence, and my back is to the door, which makes it impossible to run away from him.

With his hand, he motions for me to settle down in the chair when I don’t instantly listen to him, which leaves me with no other choice than to obey. I cannot afford to be punished any more than I already have.

My steps are unsteady as I stumble toward the chair, every step feeling like one step closer to the final doom that will decide whether I should live or not. There’s something ominous about this vintage medical chair, which bears the haunting scars of centuries gone by. A history of doctors who experimented on their patients without thinking about the consequences is embedded in it.

Nothing about this room is normal, which only adds to my increasing anxiety. Once inside the middle of the room by the chair, I take notice of the tiled walls, giving a colder appearance. It’s as if the walls emanate a coldness that resembles something sinful, telling stories of tortures taking place here. The tiled walls are half white and half light blue, making it look all too clinical.

I finally settle down in the chair with uncertainty, attempting to ignore the mystery boxes and tools lining up on the metal bench that stretches from one side of the room to the other. The sight of the tools feels like a rock tearing open my throat; none of them are familiar. Among the tools, there’s something resembling a pair of scissors, but on a much larger scale, their sharp edges appearing menacing in the glow of the lamp.

Without having time to react, I feel myself being pushed down against the chair, my head leaning against the headrest before I’m restrained. I stare in disbelief as the doctor uses a belt attached to the chair and fastens it around my breasts, leaving me unable to flee.

“What the hell are you doing?” I nearly shout with a frantic voice full of panic that I cannot seem to conceal.

As if expecting me to do something, he stares at me for many uncanny seconds, then turns to walk to the metal bench. The sound of something scrambling has goosebumps rising up my arms, the familiarity of it making memories from the day I left Grimhill Manor wash up in my mind.

I remember the sensation of something cold making contact with my neck, a needle harshly piercing through my skin until the warmth of blood followed. The master injected me with something, and I still do not know what or why. Maybe I will never find the answer.

When the doctor has his back to me, I take my time to search through the surroundings with my eyes, noticing my hoodie sticking to my abdomen. The fabric is torn, a long rip running from the sleeve to the waist, while a darker color has taken over the original one, giving off a sticky sensation in my stomach. There’s dried blood coating the fabric, and a sense of despair wells up within me at the realization that the hoodie is now ruined.

It’s the only thing I have left that belongs to Grey, and with this, it feels as if I have lost a part of my soul.

I push down the evident anguish in my eyes, calming myself down so as not to show any weakness the doctor can use to his advantage. He turns toward me again, holding something sharp in his hands that glistens in the lamplight, immediately spiking my heart rate.

It’s a pair of scissors.

My stomach falls to the bottom of the floor as I’m weighed down by dread. Nothing good ever comes out of scissors. While the room in front of me isn’t huge by any means, it feels like it takes him forever to reach me as every second ticks by inside my mind, only prolonging my dread. I count every step he takes as his footsteps echo between the tiled walls until he at last stands before me. There is nothing else I can do but lie in the chair, trapped like a rat lured into a cat trap by an appetizing piece of cheese. It all reminds me eerily of all the times I’ve been strapped down, and it’s a challenge breathing properly.

He puts one hand right underneath my breasts on my ribs, as if trying to hold me down despite the belt doing its job. With his other hand, he brings the scissors closer to my stomach. Images of him cutting open my flesh and spilling out my organs on the floor below make panic rise within me as I struggle to be freed from the restraints.

It wouldn’t surprise me if the doctor did anything horrific like that. After all, it’s something the Grimhill brothers would take pleasure in doing.

“Get that thing off me!” I continue to struggle, which just makes the belt push into my skin, feeling as if it will cut into me like I feared the scissors would.

“Calm down.” His voice is almost too dark, yet matching the unpleasant aura he possesses.

In fact, his words have the opposite effect, as they only spike my dread. Before I know it, a sharp pain spreads through my body from my struggles, one that takes root in my infected wound where he now positions the scissors.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I screech, but it’s to no avail.

My body is going on lockdown, caged inside a violent storm that takes control over my insides. They surge within me, welling over like an overflowing glass as I keep trying to break free from the restraints holding me captive, almost like a bird yearning for freedom. A fight-or-flight instinct takes over, and all I can think about at the moment is how much I need to escape. This is worse than anything the master put me through, because at least then I knew what was going to happen. Now I have no idea about the doctor’s motives.

I force down a breath of oxygen as he presses his hand down on my ribs until the air leaves my lungs for a moment.

“Lie still, or this is going to hurt way more than it needs to.”

There is nothing about his tone that gives off a threatening tone, but rather more of a warning of consideration as he looks at me, his dark blue eyes unnerving me. His eyes exude an aura of mystery, as if he hides more deep within than he wants to let on. He has an undeniably enigmatic gaze, yet it’s as if he doesn’t want to hurt me, but he knows he has no other choice than to follow Arthur’s orders.

When the cold metal meets my skin, my body reacts with an involuntary flinch. I mentally prepare for the pain I know will come, but it doesn’t.

I’m relieved to find that he doesn’t cut me open; instead, he cuts the hoodie open with the scissors, tearing the fabric apart entirely. I cannot help the tears wanting to escape behind my eyelids, as if I somehow have gotten attached to a piece of useless fabric. It made me feel closer to Grey in his absence, but now the fabric lies discarded in a garbage bag on the floor, and my heart aches like a mirror being broken into a thousand pieces, each shard being stomped on forcefully.

Putting away the scissors, the doctor returns to me with what looks like cotton balls and acetone, along with a needle and a thread. His hair hangs wildly around his face, reaching right below his ear, and appears to be a lighter shade than Grey’s raven-black one. A strand covers his one eye, making it harder for him to have a clear view of me.

There’s nothing I can do but lie strapped to a fucking medical chair all over again and accept the pain that comes as he stitches together the wound on my abdomen. There’s something in the way his hands slightly tremble that makes me wonder if he truly is a real doctor. I bite the inside of my cheek as the pain becomes unbearable until the taste of copper fills me. As he finishes up, he cleans the stitches that leave a burning pain soaring through me in a hoarse scream. He wraps a bandage around the lower part of my stomach, making me feel like some kind of half-mummy.

“Where is he?” I mumble, my body weak from the pain I suffered mere seconds ago.

The doctor only stares at me with that uncanny look, as if he has no idea of whom I am talking about, and his irises reveal nothing of his true intentions.

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