Pain shot through my body from my fingertips to my toes like white hot lightning as I jolted awake. Never before had I been forced into consciousness like this, and I pray that I never have to endure it again. Sensations of hot pokers being driven under my eyelids, burning them off while ravaging the sockets that were once my eyes was quickly replaced by the immediate realization that there was something dreadfully wrong with my fingers, no, just the tips of my fingers actually. I cleared the fog that was my mind the best I could manage in such a state and squinted out through red slits. What I saw was unbelievable. This can�t be happening to me. Surely I was only dreaming and was in reality tucked away safe and warm in my bed, and it was only my hideous mind that was creating these terrible thoughts and visions. Surely this is not happening, and if it were, who would do such unspeakable things? I kept closing and opening my eyes, hoping each time that when I reopened them I would be looking up at familiar surroundings, my ceiling, my posters, my computer! But each time I slowly pried them apart they were staring at those bloody stumps at the end of two mangled arms. Was that bailing wire? There was indeed hay bailing wire that was attaching portions of my hands and fingers together! Blood was everywhere that I looked. Slowly it oozed from open veins and yet didn�t coagulate. Rivers of blood ran down the cold stainless steel table. It was everywhere I looked. Huge hooks hung from the ceiling from chains that seemed to be swinging in the wind, yet there was neither wind, nor any breeze at all, just a horrible stench that was rotting flesh. White five gallon plastic buckets sat precariously about the room, all dripping red and full of flesh. Some poured out onto the floor and hung over the sides dripping blood and matter. I opened my mouth to scream. I screamed as loud as I could, but a sound like someone blowing through a garden hose was all that would come out. I had no voice box! My larynx had been removed and I was incapable of speech. My heart began pounding harder and I thought about all the blood I was loosing because of this. I tried to calm down, but how could I calm down while I was bleeding to death? I must go and find help. Yes, that is what I must do I decided, and jumped down from the table only to fall amongst the buckets of flesh and blood and stare right at two legs that had been cut from poor souls body. As I looked at the legs it dawned on me that the remnants of cloth that were matted together were that of my own jeans. Those were, in fact, my own legs! I screamed again, making that eerie whistling noise as the air from my lungs escaped from the hole in my throat and slowly became nothing but a gurgling noise as I lay in the blood and flesh and overturned buckets that held my body parts. Why wasn�t I dead? Couldn�t someone have some sort of mercy on me and end this terrible ordeal? As my intestines oozed slowly from its now opened cavity I began to realize that I was indeed, dead.

Welcome to my personal hell.