I try to look the man sitting across from me in the eyes, but I can't. His eyes aren't exactly in sync, so I can focus on one or the other, but not both.
"There will be two of us in the room," the man says. "Myself, and one other."
"Okay," I say, trying to act like the entire situation isn't disturbing at all.
"I will be the one with the knives," the man says, nodding once. "I'll be doing the cutting."
"What," I say, "will the other one be doing?"
He smiles at me, and I try to smile back, but my face twitches involuntarily instead.
"He will be in charge of keeping you still," the man says. "While I cut into you."
"Oh," I say, not really reassured in any way. I'm suddenly more worried about The Stillness than I am the impending knives and blood.
"I know, I know," the man says, finally breaking the gaze he'd held on me since we began. "You think that you can take it, that you'll be fine holding still. But you won't."
"I...well," I start, not really sure if I want to talk about this.
"You'll scream and thrash," the man continues, getting a distant look in his eyes, clearly remembering something. "And I'll end up cutting things in the wrong order. Or things I never meant to cut at all."
He looks back at me, smiling again. "That can be very messy," he says.
"And painful?" I ask.
"Probably," he says. "You can't always tell if the screaming is from fear or pain."
"Ah," I croak.
"Frankly," he says, shrugging. "I'd rather not think about it."
"Yeah, okay," I say, standing. My throat has gone quite dry.
The man opens the door, gesturing me out.
"See you on Tuesday," he says.
"There will be two of us in the room," the man says. "Myself, and one other."
"Okay," I say, trying to act like the entire situation isn't disturbing at all.
"I will be the one with the knives," the man says, nodding once. "I'll be doing the cutting."
"What," I say, "will the other one be doing?"
He smiles at me, and I try to smile back, but my face twitches involuntarily instead.
"He will be in charge of keeping you still," the man says. "While I cut into you."
"Oh," I say, not really reassured in any way. I'm suddenly more worried about The Stillness than I am the impending knives and blood.
"I know, I know," the man says, finally breaking the gaze he'd held on me since we began. "You think that you can take it, that you'll be fine holding still. But you won't."
"I...well," I start, not really sure if I want to talk about this.
"You'll scream and thrash," the man continues, getting a distant look in his eyes, clearly remembering something. "And I'll end up cutting things in the wrong order. Or things I never meant to cut at all."
He looks back at me, smiling again. "That can be very messy," he says.
"And painful?" I ask.
"Probably," he says. "You can't always tell if the screaming is from fear or pain."
"Ah," I croak.
"Frankly," he says, shrugging. "I'd rather not think about it."
"Yeah, okay," I say, standing. My throat has gone quite dry.
The man opens the door, gesturing me out.
"See you on Tuesday," he says.
