#gonna steel myself and try to watch but i wont force myself if it stresses me out too much

[lesbiancarat]

i found out bjoo from xeno-t/toppdogg is on peak time and I'm kind of tempted to watch it but the fact that it's another idol survival program for "failed" idols is giving me flashbacks to the unit and idk if i can put myself through that again 🧍‍♀️

[my-dark-words]

On Instinct

Finally, a 6th part of the ‘My Mistake‘ series for you. You might want to check the tags for content warnings on this one too. As always, I recommend starting at the beginning. And a special thanks to those of you that have likes, reblogged or commented on each chapter, I see you and you keep me going. 

My Mistake

Unwanted Guest

Questions Part 1

Questions Part 2

Your Choice

And now, On Instinct...

The room was like something from my stress nightmares. Cluttered and grimy, piles of objects heaped on the benches around the walls, dirt and mud smeared on the cupboards below. I squinted as my attention focused. It wasn't all mud. There was one dark red handprint. I focused on something else. Another 'guest' waited, gagged and bound with his hands above his head, on a partially reclined chair. It looked like the sort of set up you'd expect at a dentist's, complete with the bright light above and trays of instruments on either side, except for the general filth and lack of green surgical linen. The room was at a crossroads, with one exit in the centre of each wall, though the other hallways were flooded with impenetrable darkness. I didn't recognise Dark's other guest, but that didn't mean much. He could have been any young man off the street, with black ear gauges and neon green hair. He was gagged with a strip of cloth, and the t-shirt he had been wearing had been cut from base to collar and folded either side, revealing a bare thorax and abdomen. I had a very bad feeling about this.

Dark stepped over to the other guest with a stiff gait. Standing beside another human, it suddenly became obvious just how strangely monochrome he was. His lack of colour extended to the rest of the room, washing out hues that should have been there and leaving my assumptions to see what I expected to see. Only the other guest remained untouched by this effect, flushed skin and green hair standing out like headlights on a midnight road. I wondered if the other guest was the only other real thing in this room. "When you refuse to make a choice, good doctor, there are consequences. You're already in the game, you don't get to not play." He practically spat the words, and laid his hand across something on one of the cluttered trays adjacent to the reclined chair. "What is it you humans are so fond of saying again?" he mused, tilting his head to one side as he waited for my reaction. "That evil succeeds when the good stand idly by?" He ripped the cloth gag out of the other guest's mouth. A torrid of angry, frantic curses filled the room, but I paid them little attention. My gaze focused on the instruments on the table under Dark's hand, a clutter of surgical steel. Some gleamed in the light, others were dulled from dirt, blood or use. Most I recognised, but some instruments had no obvious purpose to me. I wasn't sure that I wanted to know. "What are you going to do, my dear?" Dark growled, eyes widened briefly in anticipation. "What do you mean?" My voice wavered. "Are you going to save him?" he lifted a blade from the table, long and curved with no legitimate surgical purpose, "or let him die?" Suddenly he lunged forward, plunging the blade into the green haired guest's abdomen, curving up towards his heart. The guest stopped cursing, his words replaced with short, sharp gasps. "What the hell!" I shouted, finding my anger again as I rushed forward. Part of me didn't believe this had just happened, or that anything this night had happened, but the rest of me had snapped into surgeon mode. I was already thinking of every single thing that might have been damaged in that stab. "Go on doctor," mocked the monochrome man in the suit, "Make yourself useful." I pressed my hands to my patient's exposed abdomen, assessing the wound. It was deep, the curved blade entering beside the umbilicus and curving towards his head. It was definitely in the abdomen, the abdominal muscles had not been enough to stop it, but I had no way of knowing whether it had punctured the diaphragm, or anything in between. "Where's the anaesthetic?" I demanded, not shifting my gaze from the wound. It didn't change as I stared, unlike everything else in this world. This was real. "You don't get any," he sneered, "but you'll find whatever else you're looking for in my room, if I want you to find it." I looked up, glaring at him. "Just what twisted game is this?" I demanded. He grinned in response. "Mine. Oh, thank you for reminding me." He grabbed the knife in the guest's abdomen and twisted it towards him. The restrained man jerked and screamed. I lunged forward to grip the handle, trying to stabilise the blade and prevent any further damage. "Then get out of my way," I sneered, prying his hands off the knife. They were icy cold. He stepped back into the shadows of the room, smirking. My mind automatically leapt into work mode, writing mental checklists of all the organs that might be damaged: liver, stomach, spleen, intestine most likely, kidneys and major vessels less likely. Then all the steps I needed to take: intravenous access, oxygen, antibiotics, pain relief... But there wouldn't be any of that to be found, would there? Damn it! "Hey, listen," I said, turning my attention to the stabbed man's face, hoping the well practiced calm of my voice could provide a sliver of hope, "I know it doesn't look like it, but everything's going to be alright." "Damn straight it doesn't look like it!" he cried, "What the hell is going on?" Probably something like that, I thought to myself. "We're in a bad place, everything sucks, and as far as I can tell nobody is coming for us," I said, "but there's this knife in your belly, and I'm going to get it out and make sure you're okay." "Then just pull it already!" he hissed, hands tugging at the cuffs that restrained him. "I can't', I apologised, trying to keep my voice calm and collected. "If I pull the knife straight out of a blood vessel, it'll start bleeding worse and you'll die. I need to cut it out and deal with the damage as I go. I need you to trust me." "And why the hell should I do that?" He winced as he glanced at the knife in his abdomen. "Because I'm a doctor," I replied, tapping the stethoscope around my neck, "look, you see?" "Then why are you in an evening dress and why isn't this a hospital?" he insisted, glancing around at the mess of the room, "what kind of nightmare is this?" "I don't quite know, but tell me when you figure it out," I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "What's your name, anyway?" "Uh... Jack," he muttered, looking back at the knife. "You aren't gonna let me die, are you?" "Of course not," I said, not dwelling on whether or not I had a choice. Dark lurked in a shadowy corner, standing unnaturally still as he watched. I scanned the trays beside me for what I needed. As detail developed I saw some of the tools I sought, though none of them were as clean as I would like, and no drapes, gloves or sterile prep were anywhere to be found. "It wont be infection that kills him, good doctor," Dark smirked from the shadows. "I can promise you that." I didn't know the rules of this world, but I had learned that doing nothing only made the situation worse. I grabbed a scalpel from the tray, fresh, sharp and gleaming. "I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt," I said to Jack, readying the scalpel above his skin. "Take a deep breath for me. Ready?" He nodded. I cut down through the skin from the base of his ribs to below his belly button, straight down the centre, parallel to the knife. There was a sharp intake of breath as the skin opened, revealing the tensed muscles beneath, blood already oozing around the stab wound. They muscle bodies weren't well defined, already crossed with old scar tissue in different directions. I paid this little thought, he must have had surgery before, though not like this. I grabbed forceps from the tray, glancing at my patient's face before the next incision. He was staring intently at my face, not my hands. I looked back at the surgical site, the last thing I needed to think about was the fact that this was a living, thinking person I was cutting into. I lifted the white ligament running down the centre of the abdomen, and cut through it. Jack screamed, but I suppressed the urge to jump. Ignoring the sound, I finished opening his belly. Blood pooled to the surface, far too much of it. "Stop! It hurts!" I ignored him, showing handfuls of swabs into the wound, trying to soak up the blood so I could see. I consoled myself by knowing that if my patient was making noises then at least they were still alive. I wished I had a second pair of hand, or better yet a nurse, to help me and stabilise the knife, but I knew there was no help for me here. This was some kind of test. I found retractors on the tray and placed them to open up the abdominal wall, ignoring Jack's pleading, telling myself it was for the best. I stared into his displayed abdominal contents, the curved blade plunged into the viscera, the welling blood, and froze. "What's wrong?" Jack asked frantically. I chanced a glance at his pained face, sweat beading on his forehead, trying to keep my own face expressionless. "Nothing," I lied, "except for the obvious. And I can handle a knife wound, no worries." I looked back into the open abdomen, wishing that were true. Everything looked profoundly wrong. Nothing was in the right place, the organs were barely recognisable. Slick, oily blood welled up between everything else, not just around the path of the knife. What had happened to make me so stupid? Why couldn't I perform now, when it was so important? I forced myself to calm down, to think logically. I'd seen countless abdomens before, I could figure this out, even if I was stressed and tired and god-knows-where. I reached for more swabs, but found none. Thee were stained rags in their place. I grabbed them instead, packing them around the viscera to soak up the blood, not worrying about sepsis. Anything to earn me more time and better visualisation of the wound. Dark snickered in the shadows. "Are you going to make yourself useful or just stand there and smirk?" I muttered at him. "No, that's what you wanted," Dark replied smugly. "Are you not enjoying yourself?" I pushed Jack's innards away from the blade, searching for the source of the bleeding. The intestines were pale, and the position of the liver was not quite right, its surface crossed with multiple scars. "Am I gonna be alright, doc?" Jack gasped. I flashed him a confident smile, I hadn't realised I'd been frowning. "Of course you are," I replied with as much confidence as I could find. "I'm scared," Jack whimpered. "You're a terrible liar, you know," Dark chuckled from the other side of the chair. "Just keep taking deep breaths for me," I said to Jack, feeling over his liver to check the diaphragm. It felt strange to have ungloved hands in an abdomen, but not as strange as everything else. I couldn't find the diaphragm, the sheet of muscle separating the chest and abdominal cavities, but I knew it must be there because Jack was still breathing. I had no idea what was wrong with me, or why I was so useless. This must have shown on my face. I slid the knife back along its path, applying pressure to everything it had touched. It slid smoothly through the flesh, but I still couldn't make sense of what was going on. I tossed it into a tray. "I'm gonna die!" Jack wailed at the roof. I said nothing to comfort him, I wasn't sure I could keep lying. I could feel my pulse in my forehead as a headache took hold, fear rising in my throat. Fear of failure, of incompetence, more than anything else. Keep it simple, I thought to myself, grabbing a segment of intestine, checking it for cuts and following it along to its beginning. "Do you understand yet, good doctor?" Dark asked, peering at my face over my whimpering patient. "More than I want to," I muttered distractedly. I followed the intestine back to where I started from. I must have made a mistake. "Yet you know so little. How useful can you really be?" Dark mocked. I took a deep breath. My hands were shaking. My patient was crying something- I'd stopped paying him attention. I focused on the intestine again, trying to shut everything out, but it was so difficult. There was more blood. The intestine was pale, the organ had no pulse. None of it did. "I thought you were a real doctor," Jack whined. My hands plunged down as deep as I could reach, searching the underside of the spine for the aorta, the one blood vessel that I could always rely on. I couldn't find it. I stared at Jack's face in confusion, hand pressed against his spine and no pulse to be found. Yet his colour was still normal, he was still alive and perfectly conscious. "What's wrong?" Jack asked, his voice wavering, "Am I gonna die?" I didn't want to answer. I didn't think I could. Nothing made sense. I slid my hand up over the liver, as far towards the head as I could reach. I expected to hit the muscular sheet of the diaphragm, inflating lung, or anything. I found nothing, my fingers now far under his ribcage. "Hey!" Jack squirmed, "That... that...tickles!" I withdrew in confusion, taking a step back. Jack chuckled. Dark smirked. Slowly, I took my stethoscope from around my neck and listened to Jack's chest. I heard nothing. "I told you, there are no beating hearts here," Dark smirked. I replaced my stethoscope around my neck. "What is this game?" Jack suddenly cackled, a high pitched, sharp noise with a hint of static. He pointed a finger, waving it under my nose. "You should see your face!" he laughed. "Weren't you handcuffed a moment ago?" I asked, my tired mind latching onto a stupid detail. The handcuffs lay empty, attached to the top of the chair. "Oops," he shrugged, "I forgot not to glitch through them." Dark sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Amateur," he muttered. "The name's Anti," the green haired being said, offering a hand. I hesitated, no longer certain what was real. As I stared the offered hand developed a slightly pixelated quality, as though I was looking at a gif and not flesh, even though I was reasonably certain that he was fleshy, at least everywhere else. I shook it, unsure how doing so could possibly make the situation any worse. "You're not alive?" I asked. "Not by your definition," Anti shrugged, "but I am here." He tried to sit up, but I instinctively pushed his chest back down before I realised what I was doing. Anger flashed across his face. "You can't just get up with your guts hanging all over the place," I said. He snickered, flashing a toothy grin. "Just watch me, doll." "Please, just let me close you up. You've clearly had..." I struggled to find the right words, "...amateurs... do this before." "Yeah, a total noob," Anti chuckled, leaning back in the chair and resting his hands behind his head. Dark rolled his eyes. "Well, since you can't maintain an illusion, mind our new 'doll'. I have a 'playroom' to establish." "Fine," Anti drawled as Dark walked away, "but would it hurt you to be creative for a change!" I searched the cluttered trays for a strong suture to close the abdominal muscles approximately as I'd found them. I removed the swabs and rags I'd packed the abdomen with. I didn't know if there would be any issue if I left one behind, but I'd be damned if I did a slack job now. Blood quickly filled the abdomen again, though I didn't know where from and no longer cared. "What's going on inside you anyway?" I asked nervously, "your organs don't make sense." I tied my first knot at one end of the incision and began closing. Anti shrugged. "Don't blame me. I don't know what they're supposed to look like. I ain't got any fancy book learning, I only see guts when I'm dragging them out of people. I did my best." The muscle layer closed, I searched the trays beside me for a surgical stapler. To my surprise I actually found one. Despite everything it was comforting to have something familiar. "This might hurt a bit," I apologised out of habit. Anti raised an eyebrow. "That's highly unlikely, doll." I said nothing, working on autopilot to close the skin with an even, regular pattern of steel staples. At least there were some things I could still do, even when exhausted "You're tidier that most," Anti remarked as I worked, "Neater than old Doom and Gloom anyway." "Thanks?" I replied uncertainly, "What does he want with me anyway?" Anti giggled, "You'll find out. They always do." He sat up when I finished closing the skin and stepped away. "Neat!" he remarked, running a finger down the evenly spaced metal. "Don't pick at it or it wont heal," I said, out of habit again. Anti smirked and made sure I was watching as he ran a finger over his wound, the skin healing rapidly under his touch. "You could do that the whole time?" I said, a pit in my stomach. The skills I'd spent my life acquiring were meaningless here. "Yeah," Anti nodded merrily, "But I wanted to see what you would do." "Uh, do you want me to take those staples out then?" I asked. "Nah. I like 'em. They're neat." He stood up and I backed away a few steps. I was so exhausted I couldn't do anything else. "You know, we should do this again some time, but swap positions," he said, gesturing to the chair behind him, "After all, you got to see mine. I get to see yours." "I'll pass," I said quickly, stepping into the middle of the room. "It wasn't a suggestion." The four hallways branched on different directions. One Dark had brought me through, one he'd disappeared down to set up a 'playroom', whatever that meant, and two unknown. The hallways were all pitch black, but I could hear the click of his shoes on concrete ss he returned. "You, uh, might want to run, doll," Anti whispered, walking around me in slow circles. "Most do." I simply didn't have the energy. I was spent. "I can't run," I sighed, "I've nowhere to run to." "Sure you do," Anti smiled beside me, gesturing down the hallway Dark had brought me through in the first place. A little spark of hope dared to show itself. "Will that work?" I wondered. Anti shrugged in my peripheral vision. "Are you gonna hate yourself forever if you don't find out." I was frozen in place, my limbs heavy with exhaustion and my mind numb. I could hear Dark returning, and I just wanted everything to be over. Anti's nails trailed down my neck and across my shoulder. I felt his breath on my neck. "I'm gonna do you a favour, doll," he whispered behind me. Energy started to trickle through my nerves. "R̢̀̽U̮̞̮̱̟̳͇͑͂̑N̝̪̩̯̮̚."

I ran.