Medical Procedure Chapter 2


Footsteps, coming from behind my head.  The soft clicking told of someone walking unhurriedly but with a purpose.  Straight away I started shouting.  “Help! Hello? Who’s there?! Can you help me?  Please?!”

I struggled against my bonds, twisting my head and heaving my chest up and down but it was no use.  The straps holding me in place wouldn’t give, and all I succeeded in doing was rubbing my forehead until it was sore, against the leather strap across it.

I heard the footsteps approach and stop behind me, but no matter how much I tilted my eyes upwards I couldn’t make anyone out.

“Hello?  Who’s there? Answer me, please!  Where am I?  Who are you? What’s going on?”

I sensed that I was being watched, and I could hear faint breathing and the rustle of cloth.  Suddenly the footsteps moved down my left-hand side and as I turned my head I caught a glimpse of a white coat, like a doctor would wear, but before I could make out anything else the person was out of my line of sight.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but can you please tell me what’s going on?” I said.  I was struggling with the urge to shout and scream and swear, but for the moment I felt powerless and I didn’t want to antagonize whoever this person was.   The footsteps continued to move about on the left-hand side of my body, and I could hear some metallic noises, like cutlery against a metal tray.

The footsteps moved again back toward the head-end of my body, and this time, I saw more of the mysterious person who had come into the room.  He was quite short, with a build similar to that of a jockey – wiry and slim.  He had a bald head with thin, wire frame glasses. He was also wearing a surgeons mask, which started my heart beating even harder.

“Oi! Who the fuck are you?! What the fuck is going on?!”

He disappeared again from my eye line, and I heard his footsteps stop above my head. Suddenly, a hand was placed on the right hand side of my face, keeping my head turned.  I instantly started trying to twist my head, and my chest and arms were bucking against the straps holding me down.  I screamed out, I couldn’t help it, I was really panicking now.  There was a sharp pain in the side of my neck and then the hand was withdrawn.

“What the fuck?! What are you doing?!”  I was spitting as I shouted this, my heart now racing, fear and the effort of movement bringing me out in a sweat. My head was twisting side-to-side, in a vain attempt to try and see my abuser.

Then,  a growing sensation of cold, starting at my neck, worked it’s way down my body.  My eyes started to feel heavy, as I began to lose sensation in my arms and hands.  I turned my head once more to my left, and saw my attacker with his back to me.

“What have you done?” I moaned.  I found that my lips had grown numb, and my words sounded slurred, mushy, as though the tendons in my jaw had grown too loose and I could no longer control my mouth.  As he turned and walked away, his footsteps moving back from where they originally came, they echoed, as though I was listening to them underwater.

But my eyes were fixed on what he had left on the bench to my left.  My vision was starting to blur and darken, as whatever he had injected me with began to take hold, but as I slowly sank down into darkness I saw a large, glass jar with a faintly green liquid in it.

In the jar was what looked like a bare foot.


The same noise brought me round again.  The slow dripping sound of a leaking tap.  For a few, blissful seconds I forgot where I was and what had happened.  I lay there, eyes closed, carrying out an internal audit of how my body was feeling.  Then it all came crashing back into memory – lying on my back, the man, the injection… the foot!  My eyes flew open like a broken window blind, and I twisted my head to the left.  There it was.  The glass jar with a single, bare foot floating in it.  I felt sick.

I was still strapped down as before, unable to move my head other than left to right.  My chest felt as though the binding that was holding it place had been tightened – there was less give, and when I attempted to draw in a deep breath it proved almost impossible.

I tried to move my fingers again, to form two fists, but I couldn’t feel anything.  Just numbness.  And still no feeling from my legs, or feet.  Feet.  That word brought my focus back to the foot in the jar.  I stared at it, wondering who’s it was, where it had come from.  The faint green tinge to the containing liquid and the distorted shape of the jar made it difficult to make out much detail but it was clearly amputated just above the ankle bone, and at the top I could see what looked like strands of flesh, or nerves, floating like seaweed in a rock pool.

As my body slowly became more awake and alert, I considered shouting out again, trying to attract attention.  But I started to make some connections; I had been restrained without consent.  I had been injected by a stranger against my will, and even though I spoke to him he hadn’t responded once.  It was unlikely that there would be someone here to help me considering what had gone before.

Instead, I concentrated on trying to move my arms and hands.  I could still feel nothing, and I assumed that whatever I had been injected with was still working it’s way through my system.  I was sweating, more now with the realization of my predicament, and as my efforts to move became more futile my heart beat increased and I began to pant like an overheating dog.

I stopped moving and tried to compose myself again.  I closed my eyes, and started taking long, slow breaths through my nose and out of my mouth.  After a minute or so of this, my heart rate had slowed and my breathing had returned to something closer to normal.

As my mind cleared, I could think a little more clearly about my situation.  It was not good.  Held against my will, being drugged with no explanation, and at the mercy of what could quite possibly be some psychopath doctor.  I’d assumed he was a doctor because of the coat he wore and the surgeons mask, but maybe he was just crazy.  My only hope, I realized, was to try and talk rationally and calmly to him when he next appeared – if he did – and try and get some sort of response from him.

As I came to this conclusion, I again began to hear footsteps approaching.  Judging by the sound it seemed safe to assume it was the same person.  I cleared my throat, and got ready to try and start up a conversation with my captor.


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