Fire and Needles


 * Darkness. Merciful, quite darkness. Sleep, most likely. Sleep, thank God. But, if this is sleep, than why can I think? No, this is not sleep, but waking. Please, let it not be waking!
 * Needles, tiny needles, just on the edges of my consciousness; not painful, not yet, just unpleasant. More needles, farther in, harder this time. That dull, throbbing pain has arrived. Pulse after pulse after pulse, worse every time. The needles are bigger now, more frequent, more intrusive. They are moving deeper, and feel thicker than horse needles. They are daggers now, stabbing, carving chunks out of my flesh! The dull throbbing pain is dull no more; it is colossal, titanic, like a sledgehammer being swung faster than humanly possible. I try to scream, but burning spiders crawl across my throat instead of air. I stop, anxious not to bear any more pain than necessary.
 * Suddenly, I feel something in my stomach – food? Whatever it is, it feels good. My mind walks through burning hallways of flame and death, silently praying for relief, until I find it. It is food! It gives me sustenance, and I crowd around it thankfully. But, is there something else in here? Yes… a painkiller… and some chemicals that make me tired. I begin to drift off, away from my private hell, to a better place. Sleep.


 * “There we go. Everything is in. How’s his heart rate?”
 * “Slow enough to be sleeping. I still don’t know how he survived.”
 * “He saved 15 kids from a burning orphanage, only to catch on fire. It really is to bad he has to suffer like this.”
 * “Well, we don’t know if he’s suffering at all. He may have gone insane by now.”
 * “Either way, he’s still in a bad place. I hope the euthanasia order comes in soon.”
 * “Well, we don’t know if he’s suffering at all. He may have gone insane by now.”
 * “Either way, he’s still in a bad place. I hope the euthanasia order comes in soon.”