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So, incapable of anything other than rest, you close your eyes, and try to fall asleep again.
Your eyes spring open with the creaking of the private room's window beyond the sheet that blocks your view. The inaudible silence breached by the moaning of the window pane as it slowly opens itself. Slowly you attempt a voice to call out "Who's there? Hello? What's going on?", anything to quell this building sense of intrusion. But the medication coursing through your body denies you even that. The sweat begins to seep upon your brow as the possibility of whoever is making their way onto the 4th floor window races through your mind. Is it a homicidal maniac? Is it a thief, looking to make a profit off of the invalid and dying? Is it someone whose pleasure comes in the torment of the infirmed? You wait for an answer while the slowly opening window moves into position. You find that when the window finally stops, it's quickly followed by sounds from midnight activity of the street your room faces. You breathe, deeply relieved at the possibility of a window that's in need of maintenance.
Then you hear a clicking sound coming from the floor.
Your eyes widen at the intruding sound below you. You uselessly struggle against your body, screaming in your head at yourself to get up. Clicking can be heard just beyond the curtain, scampering across the sterile floor. The partition of the curtain in front of your bed billows for a brief second, and settles as the clicking sounds come to a stop. Your eyes are rapt and facing ahead, wordlessly, and almost breathlessly waiting for a sign of movement or life to draw your fears. But the moment doesn't come. Second after laborious second, you stare, feeling the weight of the medication pulling you back down. Your heart begins to settle, as your eyelids slowly begin to float down, and weightily pull you back to slumber. You chastise yourself for thinking that something could happen in the comfort of the hospital. Secure in the feeling of safety, you let yourself fall asleep again.
The bottom of your foot tingles slightly, jostling you slightly, but enough to wake you. You numbly shuffle your feet, attempting to roll to your side, but are completely unable to will yourself to turn. You tighten your eyes, trying to ignore the tingling sensation coursing up and down your foot. The sensation of tingles running up and down your foot is great, but you try to resist. Up and down, up and down, up and... down? A repeating pattern dragging itself across your foot, a sensation you've never felt from medicated numbness before. You don't know what's going on, but this state of ignorance draws you to awareness as you open your eyes and you look past your legs.
A diminutive creature, barely able to peak over the bed, holds your foot in one ruddy brown hand, and is drawing it's other claw against the bottom. Its sickly yellow eyes intently drawn to yours, and smiling with gleaming intent, it slowly pokes and prods your heel, pushing with more and more intensity until you hear a slight popping sound, and then the withdrawing of it's claw as it brings the tip to his nose and sniffs deeply. It shakes it's head, refusing the smell, and wipes something off on the upturned blanket over your legs. Looking back at you, the thing places it's hands on the bed, and scrambles it's way up.
Barely over 3 feet tall, the nude figure stands on your bed, staring down on you as he sizes you up. He sniffs deeply, and getting on hands and knees, begins to sniff repeatedly, moving himself over your body. You want to push it away, to get out of there, to get someone to help you, but your body has become a medicated prison. He hovers over your leg, sniffing around and around, until he stops above your knee. He gently moves the blankets aside, lifts your gown, and caresses above the kneecap. The sensation you would feel is drowned in the numbness of the medication. He draws his claw, looks longingly at your leg, and deftly skewers you. You try to scream, but your throat numbs any words that try to escape, an inaudible gasp of pain and weakness.
You hear the pop as he draws his claw out, and see an immediate drawing of blood from the hole he made. He lifts the blood tipped claw, sniffs once, twice, and enticingly flits his tongue out to sample what's on his claw tip, only to shut his eyes, and enjoy the taste he has found. Acting quickly, he gets on hands and knees, leans over your knee, begins to smell deeply, and begins to lap at your wound. You mind begins to piece together what is happening. You, in your drug addled state, have been found by this thing that's sampling you, and has decided that you are it's next source of food. You are now it's meal.
You hoarsely try to call for help, attempting every possible prayer and curse in your head to get this thing away from you. It looks at you, yellow eyes with a long, bulbous nose between, no hair whatsoever on its head, watching you attempt to cry out. You try and try to speak, to be more than an inaudible whisper over the sounds of machines and wandering people and gurneys, but you notice that the thing on your bed has begun to mimic you. To mock you. To mirror your helpless state, and pitiable attempts for help. You begin to open your mouth to try once more, but the creature preempts you, by slapping your stomach, sending a dull ache throughout your body, robbing you of breath and effort.
His smile grows wider, proud in the knowledge that you definitely cannot escape. Your eyes grow wider, knowing that this creature can know do with you as he pleases. And that pleasure involves your meat in its' stomach.
He caresses your gut, making sure not to harm an area that's already in pain. He seems to want to cause pain, not just take you apart. He lifts his claw to your chest, placing it at the hem of your gown, and quickly yanks down, slicing as it goes. He separates the pieces, gently scraping across your chest, spiraling around and around, like he's homing in. He crooks an eyebrow, smiles gently, and *POP*! Jabs into your chest. This time, you could feel the pressure of his claw going in. The drugs are starting to wear off!
Your breathing begins to quicken at the thought of all that pain coming back and hitting you at once, but the creature takes no mind of your actions. He pulls out his claw, licks the tip, rolls his eyes back, and zooms in on your right arm. It rushes in, pulling itself tightly against your arm, cradling itself fully. You can actually feel his breath on your shoulder as he nuzzles it, mewling contentedly. He flicks his claw out dramatically, making sure it's directly in front of your face. Gently grabbing your chin, he coerces your head to turn towards your shoulder, as he stares back at you deeply. He grins maniacally, as you smell the charnal odor as he breathes, and see the brownish tinge of his sharpened teeth. You know he's going to enjoy this part, and that you will not.
He forcefully stabs his claw into your shoulder, the popping there, but along with something else you hadn't felt: pain. The drugs are leaving your system, and your reaction elicits an intense, orgasmic response from him. He knows you felt that, and begins a soft cackle as you feel him draw his claw across. The blood begins to pour from your wound, as he twists back and forth, making a widening wound where your arm meets it's socket. You feel his fingers begin to force themselves deeper, as he shoves his claw further in, wrenching back and forth.
The pain is immense, coupled with the intrusion of his hand. You feel the muscles in your arm being stretched, the nerves firing so rapidly that you feel nothing but white hot pain. He spreads his hand, forcing the grievous opening further, surveying all that he has done to you. Your arm is limp, losing all sensation but the nerves in your arm coursing the pain along. He lifts your now useless arm, and begins to crudely saw his claw in the opening. He twists your hand, providing more exposure to your armpit, as the nerve cluster there works overtime at the sensation, until they are sliced, and your arm leaves your sense of connection.
He works his way around the rest of your shoulder, butchering your arm as much as possible. You can feel where the arm connects in the socket, but the rest is now alien to you. He begins to twist and jerk it, seeing how much he must do to excise it entirely from your person. This crude surgery he has done has left an indescribable feeling of violation, but you can see his work is almost finished. Your tears stream down as he places one foot on your chest, grabs his meat with both arms, and begins to pull.
He digs in deep, the weight on your chest leaving a deep sensation of pain as you feel the extending sensation in your shoulder socket. You hear the squeaking and creaking of cartilage as he yanks and pulls on your arm. You want to scream, but your hoarse rasp falls on deaf ears. He tugs on your arm, pulling with his full weight, twisting back and forth.
He tugs, and you feel the joint beginning to slip.
He jerks, and you feel the ball on the edge of the socket.
He leans forward, readjusts his grip on his prize, plants both his feet, and pulls with all his might. You hear the sound of torn cartilage, and see him fall back, his newly won meat in his hands. He wastes no time smiles at you, almost seeming to offer a prayer for you, before he rolls on your bed, deftly devouring your hand.
The pain seeps into your body, and as you try to process what has happened, your mind collapses in shock, and you pass out.
The sound of a monitor by your bed greets you as you awaken. You roll your head, trying to put together where you are. Hospital, you think to yourself. You were rushed to the hospital. You see a nurse pass by you, and attempt to sit up. She rushes to you, helping with comfort. She coaches you, saying you were in surgery, and that it was a success. You meekly ask her for some water for your throat, and that you need some time to come to grips with it. You ask how long the surgery was for, which she responds with four hours, while pouring your cup. You see her begin to offer the cup, until she rushes around to the other side to help you drink. You tell her you still have strength to hold a cup, and attempt to grab it. But what you see next shocks you deeply.
You attempted to grab the cup with your right hand, but you no longer have a right arm.
You begin to scream, dazed and afraid of what happened. The nurse grabs onto you, attempting to restrain you, but your violent outburst forces her to cry out for help. More nurses and doctors rush to your bed attempting to restrain you. You hear one doctor ask you to calm down, because you have another surgery scheduled, and that this outburst will only make things worse. You feel the pinch of a hypodermic needle, as one of the nurses injects you with something. You continue to scream that this isn't right, this wasn't what you were in the hospital for.
The weight of the doctors and nurses becomes too much, as your body begins to go under sedation. You attempt to struggle, but the enormity of the situation is too much. You hear a nurse, who is reading your chart, talk about what you meant, as your eyes begin to droop. You hear something about an incident involving necrotizing fasciitis becoming evident, even though your flesh seemed healthy, and that there were more traces of it in your limbs, and the call to excise it immediately.
You try to get their attention, but your mouth begins to go numb. You smell the charnal breath of the creature, and as you look around, you can see the creature from before following the doctor as he makes his rounds, unseen by the other staff and patients in the area. As you begin to succumb to the medicine, you finally are able to motion to the nurse, and leaning in, tell her one thing before passing out.
Appendix... You were here to just have your appendix removed.
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