Short Stories - Dissection
She was full of grace,
and full of hope.
She had a name, but she couldn't remember it. Not here. Within these sterile walls, she was not herself. She had no identity of her own - she merely existed within the void of love, and with each moment, she felt herself ebb away into it.
He circled the edges of the room, like a tyger (tyger, burning bright,) watching his prey with lustful eyes. There was a pity in those bright, opal eyes, she could see that much. Not enough though...
... not to overcome the ruthlessness of human nature.
He was powerless, bound to it.
The girl sat on the operating table in the middle of the room, her brain clouded with thoughts of love. He is perfection... He is my saving grace... He is what I needed... he is mine...
He eyed up his prey and approached her, his fingers gently brushing the silk neck-scarf she hid behind. He gently unravelled it, letting his fingers trail along her auburn hair... She was beauty personified. His heart sighed at the outcome that had yet to emerge, knowing that though she was more precious than the rarest of all gems, she was already lost.
His hands guided the girl, laying her down upon the table, his hand not leaving the back of her head so as to cushion her necessary descent. His fingers nibbly moved, experts to their cause, trailing the silk length along his loves hands and beginning to tie her to a love, a life she would never be free of.
"Am I your love?" she whispered, eyes closed, breath heavy.
"Yes. But I am afraid," was his monotone reply.
She was submissive, letting him bind her with his shackles of unadulterated need. For she too was longing - to be a part of something greater than herself. To be loved, to be in love.
"Trust me," he begged. So she did.
"Need me," he coaxed. And she did.
"Love me," he demanded. And she could not resist.
She laid in his spidersweb, held by translucent threads, each with their own attributes and names... Need. Lust. Fear... And the most important of all - Hope. An eternity of strings.
All of which he pulled with his potential to love.
He walked to the table, and his instruments appeared in front of him. Hesitantly, he reached for the scalpel. He saw his own eyes in the bittersweet reflection, and turned away in shame. His love was tainted - but it was love.
He walked towards the table, and let his instrument free hand roam the young girls frightened form. She knew that this was normal, necessary. She knew it happened to everyone, at some point... being submerged in love. Being dissected by the one who held her heart.
"I'm afraid," she whispered, as his finger tips gently brushed the inside of her thigh. She shivered with longing, as he devoured her body with his longing...
"You are my concubine," the man breathed.
Without a word, he made the first incision.
The blade cut deep inside of her chest, as he drew it calmly along. The girl let out sobs, but still she loved. The pain was greater than anything she had ever imagined. It was as though her whole being was being consumed within the flames of love... Still she would fight on.
The man traced his finger down her chest, as the blood soaked onto his skin, blurring all forms of clarity. He entered her, his hand roaming for that precious jewel, the object she was so willingly giving to him, in her state of complete innocence.
When he held her heart, he looked at it in wonder. How could anyone face so much pain, to lose this? How could anyone become so enveloped in love, that they would fight on through the anguish, to give this beautiful gift?
He put her heart down on the table, as she sobbed. Silent tears fell down her cheeks, as she gave him her everything - her heart, her body, her soul was his. The man toyed with her heartstrings, running the blade through them, and though he held her heart, she still twitched in utter anguish.
"For love," she whispered, "I will face this pain."
"For my nature," he replied, "I will cause it."
He continued his assault on her nimble flesh. He made a careful incision along her forehead, but found that he could not get to her brain. Not merely due to the biological protection of her skull - this was something deeper.
Though she had given him everything,
submerged herself in his touch,
lost herself in his heart...
He could not take her mind. He could bruise it with his endless barrage, but he could never...
...he could never destroy it.
The lights flickered on suddenly.
The man looked up, suprised. "I have to leave now."
"I don't want you to..." she sobbed.
"I must. It is the only way you can put yourself together again." The man dropped his utensils and walked towards the door, and called back callously... "Now. Fix yourself back together again."
The girl, still tied, still bound to the love she had lost, could only lay there in silence, waiting for her miracle...
Waiting for love to save her from love...
********
Author's Note - I think I might rewrite this. I came up with this general concept this morning, but I'm not sure I have portrayed it as well as I could have done. The general idea however, is to demonstrate the processes of love, (aka, giving your heart to someone, having them tear you apart, and then walk away abruptly, leaving you to put yourself back together again.) The physical concepts in this story are unacceptable, and I'm trying to question through this piece, why it is any more acceptable for his mental dissection to occur.
