------
"Good morning, Lily."
I heard the male whisper. The voice was deep and calm; a voice I'd recognize anywhere. It was John Kramer, a man I'd known for going on five years now. I felt something firm was tightly wrapped around my ankles, hips, chest, wrists, and neck. Muttering groggily, I tried to open my eyes. "Fuck," I hissed, shutting them quickly from the blinding florescent light, and wiggled around some. "John? What's going-" I coughed then, as whatever was around my neck seemed to tighten from the slightest movement. "Stay still." John instructed, as I heard him shuffle around not too far away. Coughing lightly, I did as he said, then tried opening my eyes once more; I squinted against the painful white light and gasped, dumbfounded at what I saw.
It was a series of large, curved blades - several of them, all dangling precariously above my body. My naked body, I noticed, as I forced my eyes away from the menacing blades. I saw the tight things wrapped around me were thick, leather belts. At the top of each one was a small metal circle, to which a long chain was attached. My gaze drifted up along the chains, to find they were attached to the ceiling - I was suspended in mid-air. Tears began to fill my eyes, causing everything in my view to blur. "Help me, John." I cried, my entire body trembling with fear.
"Only you can help yourself; I told you to stay still!" he snapped, causing me to yelp slightly. I whimpered some and tried my best to calm down, but I was so afraid... "Listen carefully, because I'm only going to explain this once," he continued, his tone cold and unfeeling now, "Once I've released the blades, they will drop down over your body and close around your limbs. Simultaneously, the chains attached to your leather bindings will drop you, down and directly onto the blades. On the ground, there is a jar attached to a thin metal rope I've fed through the hinges on top of each blade; you will need to cut yourself, over and over, to spill your own blood onto the table directly beneath you. From there, the blood will swirl through several tubes which all lead to the aforementioned jar. Once the jar has been filled with a litre or so of blood, the pin device will unlock, pulling the rope from the hinges and thus snapping the blades open - setting you free. Gravity will help, of course, but I suggest you act quickly and press hard, because you only have ten minutes. Carefully lean your head back, Lily."
There were no words to describe the fear and confusion I felt at that moment. So, I did as John instructed. Blinking away the constant stream of tears, I tentatively leaned my head back to see a large clock upon the wall behind me. It wasn't a clock, though, it was a timer - its red numbers flashing 10:00 over and over again, just itching to start the count down. I slowly straightened my body some, my eyes now locked on the blades above me. "What happens if I don't finish in time?" I inquired, my trembling voice barely above a weak whisper. To my surprise, John chuckled. I shut my eyes and listened as the sound echoed throughout the room. His laugh that had once pushed away the depression, if for only a moment, now filled me with dread. 'I'm going to die.' I thought hopelessly, coughing against the belt around my neck.
My thoughts were pushed aside, as John finally decided to answer my question. "If you don't complete your task in the time allotted, the pin device will be locked forever," he murmured, "No matter how much you move, no matter how much blood you spill into the jar, the blades will not open. And I will leave you to bleed out. Understood?" I nodded once, sniffling as the tears continued to pour from my eyes.
"Wh-Why are y-you do-ing this to m-me?" I stammered, as my body began to tremble violently once more.
I could hear John walking around out of my range of vision, but the sound ceased when I'd asked my question. "Why?" I heard him repeat the word, a sudden sadness in his tone. "Maybe it will help you understand the pain you caused me, and everyone around you, for so long." I heard him step closer to me, then stop and sigh heavily. "For four long years I had to watch you damage yourself, over and over again. Countless times, I had to find you bleeding on the bathroom floor, then rush your unconscious body to the hospital; had to watch you hop in and out of Mental Institutions. You don't appreciate your life, Lily. So, I'm giving you one last chance to-"
I cut him off then. "It's been almost a year!" I screamed, shaking more from anger than fear at that moment. It was true; I hadn't cut myself once for nine months and twelve days. So, why was he doing this now, when I was 'better'? Before I could squeak out anymore words to defend myself further, he cut me off in return.
"That doesn't erase the pain you've caused me." he said simply, "You are my first test subject, Lily; you are the beginning of my work. I'm giving you one last chance to realize how precious your life really is. Just because you haven't pressed a razor to your skin recently, doesn't mean you aren't still killing yourself. I've watched you mope about, ignoring most everyone around you as you shuffle to and from work and home. You never go anywhere, you never laugh, you never smile. You're a shell of the woman I met, the woman I fell in love with, and I'm sick of it. It's time now, Lily."
Suddenly, there was the sound of a button being pressed. "N-No, John, please!" I pleaded, shutting my eyes. "Please don't do this, I-" I screamed as the blades dropped down, snapping shut around my calves, thighs, forearms and upper arms, along with my entire waist starting just below my breasts and ending just before my hips. The second before the chains released me seemed like an eternity, as I anticipated the blades slicing into my flesh. I had once been somewhat immune to the pain a sharp blade caused, but I didn't think I could handle it now.
"Live or die, Lily," he said, "Make your choice."
The chains dropped me then, a white-hot surge of pain rushing through me as gravity forced the blades hard against my skin. As I screamed for someone, anyone, to help me, I could hear the timer ticking. Each tick was amplified, like a bomb going off in my head bringing me one leap closer to death with each explosion of sound. "Press hard." I heard John holler over my screams. Biting down on my lower lip, I began to wiggle my hips, slowly at first; screaming as the blades sliced deeper into my skin. I cried out and tried to lift myself away from them, which only pushed the ones around my legs and arms in further. "Fuck you!" I screamed violently, as it was the only phrase I could think of at the moment. Channeling all my fury at the man I loved, I then began to wiggle my entire body around vehemently. I screamed and cursed and cried, as the blades repeatedly made new and deeper gashes in my flesh. The constant ticking only fueled the fire, causing me to thrash about wildly like some sort of caged animal. I could hear my blood rapidly trickling down and splattering onto the table below; rushing through the tubes and pouring into the jar. "Just a little more." I heard John say, excitement in his voice. Was he cheering me on? The notion upset me so much; to think that he was just standing there, watching as I bled.
All my writhing about and screaming quickly began to drain my energy, making it damn near impossible to keep moving. Soon, I was completely motionless, my eyes wide as I stared directly up at the florescent lighting. "No!" I heard John cry, a hint of panic in his voice, "Move! Move! You're almost there, Lily, don't give up!" I blinked slightly, confused by this; so, he didn't want me to die? I closed my eyes and mulled over all he'd said earlier, momentarily ignoring his screams of desperation. He'd said I was a shell of the woman he'd met. A shell of... Of the woman he fell in love with? Had I heard correctly, or was my mind playing tricks on me? "I'm gonna die, John." I whispered hoarsely, tears streaming down my face. "How could you do this to me?"
As I lay motionless, my partially mutilated body pressed into the icy blades, I began to drift in and out of consciousness. I slowly closed my eyes and saw my mother, my father, various co-workers... My sister; well, step-sister, but that didn't matter - to me, she was my sister, and that was that. Her image stayed there, burned behind the lids of my eyes, as I began to remember the last time we were ever in the same room. The last time we ever spoke... Was when I met him.
------