(TW: Vivisection, medical horror)

Vi for Vivisection

The door hissed open, and the lead scientist strode in, flanked by guards. His white coat was pristine, his expression cold and clinical. To him, this was just another day. Another test. Another subject.

Violet and Dash sat huddled together in the corner of their cell. The air was thick with the stench of antiseptic, metal, and something worse—fear.

The main scientist clasped his hands behind his back and spoke in a tone so casual it made Violet's skin crawl.

"You've rested enough," the scientist said, his voice clinical and detached. "It's time for the next experiment."

Violet and Dash exchanged a quick, nervous glance. The word "experiment" had become a dreaded one in this place, a harbinger of pain and suffering.

The scientist continued, voice smooth as glass. "For a procedure like this, we can't risk losing all our resources. So, we'll need just one of you. Preferably, a volunteer. Or…" He gestured to the guards. "We'll make the choice ourselves."

Dash blinked, confused. "What kind of experiment?" he asked hesitantly.

The scientist's lips curled into a faint, detached smile. "Vivisection," he said, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

Violet's stomach twisted violently.

Her breath caught in her throat as the word sank in. Vivisection. Her mind raced, piecing together what it meant—what it entailed. Dissection. Alive. Pain. No anesthesia. The realization hit her like a physical blow, and a cold sweat broke out on her skin.

Her mind worked fast, piecing together what he meant. Getting out of resources. They wouldn't risk killing them both because they needed at least one of them for future experiments. That meant one of them was about to be cut open. Alive.

Her hand clenched into a fist, fingernails digging into her palm as she forced herself to think. If she volunteered—if they cut her open—Dash might be left alone here, vulnerable. But if she didn't—if they took Dash instead—

She couldn't even think about that possibility.

Couldn't imagine him on that table. Couldn't imagine his wide, terrified eyes as they cut into him, treating him like nothing more than a specimen.

He was just a kid. He was her little brother. He was supposed to be running, laughing, living, not trapped here, not facing this.

"Vivi… what? Vi what is that?" Dash question cut off her thoughts.

Dash's voice was quiet. Curious.

Innocent.

He didn't know.

Violet made up her mind.

"I'll do it." The words left her lips before she could think.

Dash whipped his head toward her. "Wait, what?!"

She turned to him, forcing a smile that she hoped looked reassuring. "It's okay," she whispered, pulling him into a hug. "I'll be okay."

Her body was trembling, but she hoped he wouldn't notice. Her arm and stump wrapped around his small frame—thinner than it should have been after months here. He smelled like sweat and fear, but underneath that, he still smelled like home.

Her little brother.

This might be the last time she hold him.

The thought clawed up her throat, but she swallowed it. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. If she broke now, he would know.

Dash stiffened. He felt it—the finality. It was a goodbye.

Panic surged through him. "Wait!" he blurted, looking up at the scientist. "No—I volunteer instead!"

Dash… no. She thought

He was trying to protect her. He didn't even know what he was offering.

The scientist barely spared him a glance. "She volunteered first."

Dash turned back to Violet, gripping her hand "Vi, no!"

Two guards stepped forward and wrenched Violet from Dash's grasp. She cried out, struggling, but they were too strong.

Dash tried to grab her back, but a guard shoved him to the floor.

"Take the boy too," the scientist said idly. "He'll observe the procedure."

Violet froze. "No."

The guards yanked Dash up.

"No!" she screamed, thrashing against their grip. "Don't make him watch! Please!"

They ignored her.

The guards dragged her out of the cell. Dash scrambled up and ran after her, his eyes wide with fear, only to be yanked forward by another pair of hands.

"Dash, close your eyes!" Violet sobbed as they pulled her down the hallway. "No matter what you hear—close your eyes! Don't look, Dash! Please!"

Violet's body trembled as they strapped her down. Thick leather restraints dug into her ankles, wrist, and around the stump of her left arm. Her legs twitched involuntarily as the cold metal of the table bit into her skin. Feeling like an animal about to be butchered.

Above her, the surgical lights blazed, far too bright, their sterile glow making everything feel unreal, like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. Her eyes watered, but she dared not to let the tears fall.

Because Dash was watching.

She turned her head slightly. Through the observation window, she could see him—strapped to a chair, arms pinned to the rests, his ankles bound. His chest rose and fell rapidly. His remaining eye, wide and frantic, darted from her to the tools being laid out.

Scalpels. Saws. Spreaders. Metal instruments she didn't know the names of, but their shapes whispered pain.

Violet forced herself to breathe. She had to be strong—for him. She pressed her lips into a tight smile, trying to look brave.

Her lips trembled. She knew he saw it.

Dash's heart raced. His mind hadn't pieced it all together yet, but he knew it was bad—worse than anything he could imagine. Then the lead scientist stepped forward, pulling on his gloves with a snap.

"This will be a full exploratory vivisection," the scientist said to no one in particular. "We will focus on the thoracic and abdominal cavities. Non-vital organ retrieval is authorized."

Violet saw the scientist take the scalpel from the tray. Terror wrapped around her like ice, but she clenched her fist.

"Let's begin."

Violet flinched as the first incision split across her abdomen. Her body seized up, but she bit her lip so hard it bled. She held back the scream—because Dash was watching.

Dash jolted against his restraints. "Stop! STOP! You're hurting her!"

The scientist ignored him. The incision widened. Clamps stretched her flesh apart, reaching deeper. Another hand probed near her stomach, adjusting. She felt her insides being moved.

Her body betrayed her. Her back arched, and a scream tore out of her throat—high, raw, broken.

Dash froze.

The sound cut through him like a blade.

Dash's stomach twisted. His heart pounded in his ears.

And then when the assistant that was blocking the view moved out of the way—he saw.

The muscles beneath. The way they twitched involuntarily. The organs shifting, pulsing.

It clicked.

Vivisection.

Dissection.

His mind made the connection. The biology lesson from last year—the frog on the tray, his small hands cutting it open, laughing with his friends because it was gross and cool.

This was the same.

But this wasn't a dead frog. This was his sister, alive and aware.

"Oh God," he whispered. "OH GOD NO, Nonononono—"

He felt like an idiot for not understanding sooner. For being too slow. For letting her volunteer.

Another one Violet's screams shattered his thoughts.

Dash shouted, thrashing violently in his chair. "STOP! YOU'RE KILLING HER!"

The scientist ignored him, focused on his work. He made quiet notes to his assistant, commenting on muscle density, organ placement, her body's remarkable resilience.

The scientist calmly noted observations, while another assistant began extracting.

She screamed again.

Dash watched the gloved hands lift something slick and red from her body. His vision blurred. He gagged. Then, his stomach heaved, and he vomited onto himself.

Violet sobbed, barely aware of anything beyond the agony ripping her apart. She could feel them taking things. Reaching inside her. Cutting pieces away.

"Please… stop," he whispered hoarsely. As his tears fall freely, mixing with the vomit "Please."

But they didn't stop, they continúe with the torture. Her organs shifted in the cavity, and Dash saw things he shouldn't have seen—things he didn't want to see.

Her intestines coiling like a snake. The edge of her liver. Her heart fluttering under her ribs.

Violet's voice was growing hoarse, screams giving way to desperate whimpers.

Dash's thoughts blurred. Her pain was unbearable to witness. Every second felt like an eternity.

Just for a moment—one fleeting, horrible moment—he thought: Please, God just take her… she doesn't deserve this suffering, let it end.

The thought sickened him the moment it formed. He hated himself.

What kind of brother am I?

He sobbed harder.

Her body shook uncontrollably. She was gasping now, barely making noise. The agony had pushed her past screaming. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

Dash couldn't look away. He wanted to—he wanted to shut his eyes and never open them again—but he couldn't.

Then… she stopped making sounds.

Her body jerked once, then fell still. Her eyes rolled slightly back.

Dash froze.

No, no, no, no—

For a horrifying moment, he thought she was dead.

But then—he saw it. A twitch. Her chest barely moving with shallow breaths.

She was still alive.

Barely.

One of the assistants checked her pulse. The lead scientist sighed, sounding mildly satisfied. "Close her up."

The process of stitching her back together seemed to take forever.

Dash's eyes never left her. Her skin was pale—too pale. Her lips had turned a faint blue.

When they finally stepped back, her body was trembling slightly, her eyelids fluttering, but she didn't wake.

The scientist removed his gloves, making a note on his clipboard. "We'll see if she makes it through the night."

Dash stared at her, tears running down his face.

Dash slumped in his chair. His mind was numb. He barely registered when they wheeled her out, to stabilize her.

Dash watched her disappear down the corridor, his heart breaking with every beat.

He was still strapped to the chair. His arms and legs hurt from thrashing. His throat was raw from screaming.

But all he felt was guilt.

Guilt for not understanding.

Guilt for wishing it would end.

Guilt for still being whole while Violet had been ripped apart.