Belly Up

It speaks for itself

I absently listened to the Doctor and nurse ask me questions about my information: age, sex, birthday, address, hell even my favorite color. They told me to lay down using distant tones and refrained from really any eye contact whatsoever. Hesitant I obliged and found my back pressing against a cold metal bed, and my head against a pillow. They stuck bright lights above my eyes and pushed hard against my chest and gut time and time again to check for any abnormalities. Then slowly with the twist of a wrist the lights started to dim. The Doctor released a small cough as thin latex slapped around his thin wrist. I tried to scream and beg for answers but no sound was registered whatsoever between the two of them.

My stomach started to knot as they suddenly grabbed at my hands and pushed them down to my sides and buckled my flailing knees. I fervently swung and wrenched my legs against the examination bed in panic as I saw a large shining scalpel rest in the hands of the Doctor. The nurse peeled open my lips and hooked my jaw with a sharp tool I couldn't quite make out to assure it stayed opened. My mouth was gagged and propped with a set of heavy metal plyers that hurt my skin and while my arms and legs were tied down with coarse leather straps that tore my skin when I tried to struggle. My heart was palpitating faster than I could breathe, sweat beads clinging to my bare skin.

"Mr. Fitzgerald it's merely precautionary..." the nurse said as she gripped and restrained my head with another strap to ensure that I wouldn't move. Saliva and blood started to trickle down my cheek and chin as I tried to fight the sharp metal spacers digging into my lips and cheeks. My skin cracked and stung against the warmed metal.

"Now, now, Mr. Fitzgerald... Please refrain from moving. We wouldn't want you hurt." the Doctor had a heavy tone with small, nearly unreadable hints of concern. Between wheezes I watched the man grab a pair of plyers from an old cracked drawer and rinse them underneath steamy water at the sink. My stomach rolled as the sticky humid started to cling to my pores.

"Mr. Fitzgerald be calm. I am merely doing what asked of me by higher authorities... " he removed the plyers from the sink and slowed stepped over to my right side. "Now," he widened.the clamps inside my mouth with a twist of knob, nearly tearing skin with his negligence. I winced and looked up at the oblivious nurse for aid, releasing a sharp groan.

The Doctor exhaled. The room hummed lowly from a nearby air conditioner as I swallowed hard. "Mr. Fitzgerald, be kind to me today please." he sighed. I felt my eyes slide close in agony as I continued to wrestle with my leather strappings. My toes crackled and loosened as he waited for me to speak. Even I wasn't sure I had the ability to do so anymore. "Fine.." before I could react the metal hemostat had been placed tightly around my tongue and tugged forwards. I flinched and nearly broke the nurses grasp as I felt him switch hands with the scalpel. He lowered his wrist gently and let the blade rest against the very tip of my tongue lightly, giving me another chance I assumed.

"Mr. Fitzgerald-"

"Go to hell." the words were dry and small but the meaning still hovered all the same. He looked to the nurse before shifting his heavy black stare back to me. Jerking an arm he pushed the tool into my tongue and roughly began to saw at the organ. The screams I managed to emit were phenomenal though the added pressure seemed to push the metal deeper and deeper. I was choking on my own saliva and gurgling up blood and water from within my throat and my broken skin as I listened to the short ripping. I lurched back and forth sickly fighting the restraints. "Mr. Fitzgerald..." the Doctor spoke sweetly removing the scalpel from my mouth after an unmeasurable amount of time. I felt the tears pour over my eye sockets as I began to sob through the pain.

The nurse freed my skull and let it rest against the bare pillow underneath and traded it for a mirror. She held it above my face just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the horror from.my position. Underneath the pool of blood, saliva and sweat that was quickly collecting with the back of my throat and mouth I began to notice the broken strands that were once my taste buds, spewed apart in a mangled manor of flesh. My tongue had been split straight down the middle. My head was fuzzy and filled with sickening pressure as I closed my eyes.

The Doctor had silently slipped over to the sink to clean his tools while the nurse shoved several layers of gauze in between the two limp slices of tissue. I felt more of the nerves break as she applied pressure to stop the blood flow. I tried to scream but my voice was gone and my lungs empty. My chest rose and flattened nervously as the Doctor returned to remove the clamps. He gave me a bittersweet smile and rested a hand gently atop my head before pushing two fingers against my tear ducts.

"Now, Now, Mr. Fitzgerald... Go to sleep hm? Sometimes it's easier when you don't wake up." he gave an empty laugh at the thought. He had split my tongue in two, but my internal screams of gratitude were.nothing shy of deafening. Slipping I felt my brain tug anxiously at my eyes, forcing my eyelids to shut.

Author's Note

Originally a piece of a book I planned on creating but I found it was fine as it is. Enjoy xo