THREAD THE VEIN
[ The Contents in this story doesn't contain real life events. It's all fictional. No copyright.]
Trigger Warning ⚠️:
Extreme trypanophobia (fear of needles), body modification, medical horror, memory tampering, gore.
Read at your own risk.
Enjoy.
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They always start with the left arm.
It rests obediently on the metal tray, pale under the fluorescent light, fingers twitching slightly-though the rest of the body is still. The straps across the chest and legs aren't necessary anymore. The fight was stitched out long ago.
Somewhere above, the light hums.
The air smells of antiseptic and rot. Of bleach and blood. And something sweeter, like rotting thread soaked in sugar water.
She blinks.
She thinks her name starts with "E." Or maybe "A."
She's not sure anymore.
A click sounds behind her right ear. Then the voice, smooth and genderless, neither human nor machine:
> "Welcome back, patient. You have been chosen for Re-threading."
No one ever screams here. It's not allowed. The last girl who screamed had her mouth sewn shut with a single continuous line of red thread. The seam ran from chin to cheekbone. When she cried, it bubbled.
The patient remembers the girl's eyes. That's all she remembers now. Her name is gone.
She turns her head slightly. Mirrors line the far wall, but none reflect. Just static. Like television snow.
The machine arm descends, sleek and silver, ending in a humming needle. Not hollow-a real needle, thick and long, with thread already pulled through its eye.
The thread moves on its own. It wriggles like it's tasting the air.
> "Locating seam point," the voice says.
A red laser grid scans across her body. It stops on her navel, then travels up. Settles just below the collarbone. The flesh pulses there, like something beneath it wants to get out.
The patient doesn't flinch. She doesn't remember how.
The needle enters with a wet sound. It doesn't just puncture-it dives.
She hears it. Not the stab, not the grind of metal-but the sound the thread makes as it snakes under her skin. A faint, high-pitched whine, like a violin string being tightened slowly.
She remembers something suddenly-
a hand on her back. A warm hand.
Her mother?
No, no, they removed the memory of the mother last cycle. That warmth is false. It's just the thread mimicking comfort.
> "Threading complete," the voice says.
> "You are clean now."
But the patient doesn't feel clean. She feels full. Like something was added, not taken. Her fingertips tremble. Her stomach bubbles. She wants to vomit, but nothing comes up. Just a long string of red thread slides out of her throat and falls onto the metal tray with a wet slap.
She starts to cry.
The tears are thick. Too thick.
They stitch her eyes shut for that.
YOU ARE READING
Thread The Vein
HorrorIn the forgotten town of Graven Hollow, no one ever gets sick. There are no hospitals. No ambulances. Only the Needle Clinic, standing silent at the edge of the woods, run by a doctor no one clearly remembers-Dr. Needleman. Once a month, every resid...
