Hurt Me Daddy, for I Have Blogged

I awoke at 0400 hours. See, I like to say it like military time. I was a foreigner. My face and body felt stuffed with cotton. "Arghawals and spelnfurkefukufs." The doctor was speaking gibberish. It was silly; I did not want to live. "You will be on suicide watch for all eternity" they said. Did you know that the medications they gave me made me want to attempt again? I guess they lied and laughed. Now I stagger inside the cell of my parental home. Parietal home. I'm not the man she knew. Their attempts to save me were noble. I was not where I once was. I am going to try to do that thing again. I will not say the words. I'll be leaving now. Into dusky, deep-night sleep. Give my regards to hot nights and nosy neighbors. I am in a box. I am walled, and they won't recover spirit.

She was an organ harvester of Night Town. She carried a scalpel constantly and often her goggles would become spattered with blood. It was imperative that she work quickly before the other Harvesters got to the body. Storage was a challenge. Sometimes she took extra for herself. Those in the Will would know where everything was when the time came. She never took their blood. In fact, it was just a mess and awful to get through. That was left for the Feeders. Good thing she didn't have to inhale the scent of internal organs. That is what her portable Engine of Joy was for. Occasionally, her ribs would feel like they were cracking. 'Pray that I can build a body out of this,' she said sometimes to the quiet or absorbed Night Town Peons. 'Otherwise, they will kill me.' They had no reason to care, though they did more than other harvesters would. Sometimes they laughed softly at her. Sometimes an old Peon would crease his brow in pity and then walk quickly by. It was a...