3rd: Gored Freedom by Jordan M. Henderson

I’m begging you, do something, HELP ME! I lay in this cold, hard bed writhing against this mattress of coils of cold iron, salivating and screaming in desperation for a release. I tried to cleave and contort my jaw to form a smile, but they stopped me. I tried boring my nails into my skin, embedding my fingers into my eyes to rid my body of THEM. I HATE them, everything! My bones and organs, especially my heart, this wretched heart. Each beat sends me the most hollowing shiver through my spine, the most unscratchable itch, the most overwhelming sense of emptiness. 

My stomach growls and roars like a lion trying to tear its way through my flesh and tissue. I can feel every bone grind and abrase each other. It's my autonomy but NONE of it belongs to me, NONE of it obeys me, NONE of it belongs. I’ll just take them out. With my bare hands I’ll pry open my rib cage and scrape EVERYTHING out. 

Starting with this godforsaken heart, I’ll rid myself of all my discomfort, my lungs, liver, stomach ALL OF IT. I’ll paint this somber and cold bed with the warmest shade of crimson red. YES! I’ll make a masterpiece of my form. Once I finish with my organs, I’ll begin with the bones. I’ll snap and break each rib and destroy the cage in my chest; I’ll free my soul. Exactly! That's where it's been hiding, my soul, my hopes and dreams, my promise of happiness. It’s all been hiding inside me. I must rip it out. It must be there as each snap of my bones; every moistened sound of my organs being torn from this prison of flesh; each satisfaction of my teeth peeling skin from muscle and tissue brings me one step closer to euphoria. 

This mutilated form is all I could dream of; I could cry! My bed, this room, is transforming from the most isolating flash of white to the warmest shade of crimson red to the most welcoming abyss of black.