The pain is overwhelming, yet it doesn't exist at all. As if I float on a plane of darkness,wedged tightly between the world of here and nowhere. I try to focus, try so hard to focus, but my uncooperative body swims in pain. It's as if every vein and artery have been flayed open by scalpels – done by the hand of a most practiced physician. Every incision screams as if doused with salt and alcohol time and time again. There is no relief.
I wonder dully if this is Hell.
To add to my misery, my subconscious seems to pick up bits and pieces of words, spoken or otherwise, and twists them into nightmares. I pick out "torpor", "cleansing", "Italian", "ritual" and "sorcery", and my mind weaves them together in a torment of lurid, frightful imagery that I cannot escape from. The dreams are on a continuous loop and I cannot shut the machine off.
If only I could scream.
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