When they stopped injecting me, I mistakenly took it as a
good sign. After what felt like years, but given how no-one had changed clothes
was probably closer to hours, of my body burning and freezing, time to recover
seemed like a good thing.
Then they got out the knives.
Oddly enough I didn’t really feel them cutting into my skin,
there was no sensation at all. Then they slowly pulled one of my nerves out of
my arm, excited about how it had worked.
Then someone tripped and fell onto my exposed nerve, and I
thankfully died from shock.
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