Copyright 2013 Ellie Reynylt
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to individuals living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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I looked down at my arm and looked away, quickly. I used to have splattering of birthmarks on my left forearm that looked kind of like the Big Dipper if I pinched the skin a little. Not anymore. I hadn’t taken a good look at the hole in my flesh, but the skin left around it was bloodstained and raw. I couldn’t see a single birthmark.
“I’m sorry,” Alexander said. His voice and hands shook. “I’m trying to do this as cleanly as possible, but . . . shit.”
“It’s fine. I can’t feel it through whatever you gave me.” It was true. Some kind of local anesthetic had numbed my entire arm from the shoulder down. I couldn’t feel it as Alexander made a few more tentative moves with the scalpel he clutched between his fingers like a pencil. But still, looking at what he was doing sent ghostly waves of anticipated pain through my arm. It was going to hurt like a bitch in a little while, that I knew for sure. But it would be worth it; I knew that for sure too.