What to paint

Chapter 11

Dottore stared in awe. He poked and prodded. He cut and he dug. Pools of blood grew around your sleeping body. Liquid scarlet dripped onto the floor and vials lined the wall. He cut again removing a chunk of flesh. He watched with a smile as your body grew and reformed it again. He poked some more and dug again. The empty shell of your body. An empty torso missing the organs from inside. He didn't stop. He collected samples after sample. The jars in the room continued to be filled and stored away so he'd never run out.
He left you soon as he counted the jars and vials. He had enough for now and he needed to let your body recover again anyways. He watched in praise as your lungs sprouted anew. How roots formed in your chest and a heart blossomed from your pooling blood. The one thing he looked at the most was the strange cavity in your chest. He had watched and observed as twisted vines wrapped around nothing and your skin reformed to cover your organs.
The next day he played with your mind. A poke and a prod. Needles stabbed into an exposed brain. Out of reflex, your arm would move. You'd say a word. And it continued. He watched as your bran regrew itself again and again. He poke and prodded again. Grey matter covered his hands. His needles were horrifying monsters that dug into one of the most vital organs you had. He laughed that the seemingly random patterns. How glad he was to have his favorite experiment back home.