Chimera

Part 9

I'm in shock, I suppose. All I can think about is the feeling of my insides in contact with something so frigid. There's a strong sensation that everything is being tightly pinched  simultaneously. The tissue inside of me has never really felt anything other than body temperature and cramps. The spikes are all the way extended. Two of them. One entered about two inches below and to the right of my bellybutton while the other found its way just under my left rib cage at the slightest upward angle. My eyes finally fall to the locations where metal disappears into skin. There's a small amount of blood collecting around the silver objects. Just a small amount, until they excruciatingly start sliding back. It's much worse now, they feel like they are stealing flesh and important bits of organs away with them. Just as the spikes are completely leaving the new spaces created in my body, the adjusting tissue causes a sound to come out of my throat that is shaky and confused. The short and high-pitched-tone almost sounds like a question. Maybe my body is asking me why. 

That's it. This seems fatal.

I've never actually died in a dream. Many terrible and unspeakable events have unfolded in my dreams before. You might think, "Well, this seems pretty terrible". But trust me, my subconscious has made me the victim of much worse. I also think back to the old rumor; if you die in a dream, you die in real life. Because of coming so close to death, yet never dying, part of me is starting to believe it's possible. What a disappointment, too. I lean back and nearly crumble to the ground as I begin to lay down. There was no strength in my knees to make that any more graceful. I shakily reach for my torn abdomen and cup some of the blood that's now steadily spilling from my body. I guess my natural reaction is to now look as far away from the area as possible. I breathe in but it's short, strenuous, and wheezy. The inside of my chest  lays heavy and hot. Tears begin rolling down the sides of my cheek bones and into my hairline. Slowly, at first, then it develops into a steady and warm stream that feels very similar to what my hand is feeling on my stomach right now. How parallel and poetic my bodily fluids are behaving is tragic and I feel pathetic once again.

This can't be it. Not now. My head feels dizzy and my chest is tightening. 

She appears on my left hand side. Oh, now she decides to show up again. Long time, no see. 

Her right hand slides under the base of my head to make sure I'm looking at her. She uses her left to take my hand from my stomach to hold it sternly. The blood stuck within our small embrace seems to become warmer somehow. 

"I can help you." Her suggestion is plain and matter-of-factly. 

"Can you?" My voice is still shaky. It seems like it's finally coming to an end. "How could anyone recover from this?" I slur the last few words and roll my eyes subtly in response to how difficult it is so simply speak.