The needle pressed into my skin, breaking the first few layers, drawing blood to the surface. Finally after an antagonizing few moments, the contents of the vial were emptied into my vein. I began slowly losing the strength in my arm. My muscles feeling weak. I watched the blood pool in the crease between my bicep and forearm, as he withdrew the needle. Pain was the only thing keeping me conscious.
I knew struggling was a waste now. A waste of time, a waste of energy, a waste of what seems to be my sanity. My vein began to bulge, the blood starting to flow more frantically from the wound, spilling down my restrained arm, and caught in the fabric of the chair beneath me. I cringed, feeling my muscles start to spasm, all the way down to my toes; The Disease working so fast?
I tried to make some sort of sound, but my throat was too busy convulsing; the taste of hot bile slithering onto my tongue, as my head lay back against the chair, feeling lifeless.
I felt it eating away at my stomach, burning, but my body couldn't react, I couldn't even close my eyes. The Disease hesitates for but a moment, before continuing onto my kidney's and liver. Slowly eating away at organ tissue, making me completely aware of every inch of my body, inside and out. Pain brings such awareness to you. Gnawing pain.
It started on my lungs then, I felt my shortness of breath with each passing second. It was then that my eyes started to focus on my surroundings. He stood there, looking down at me, smiling softly, as if he were reliving happy memories from long ago. Bastard, lied to me.
Two more minutes pass by, bloody bile now, seeming to pour past my lips, mingling with the tears flooding from my eyes, running down my cheeks, dripping from my chin.
My left arm starts to sag into itself, I will my eyes to move to see, but I can only catch a glimpse. The bone of my arm, deteriorating before me.
And here it comes, working up my spine. The pain in my legs suddenly gone as The Disease inches leisurely toward my cerebellum. Panic suddenly overtakes me, as feeling in my fingertips fades, worming up the nerves in my arm; suddenly feeling disconnected from the rest of my body.
Funny the thoughts you conjure when you sense the end. Not sense. Know. Know that you'll be dead in only a matter of moments; knowing that your body will be nothing more than a few bloody stains when The Disease is momentarily appeased, and withers on the floor with no host to survive in.
All I could think about was how ironic it was, to stare up at him, as he stared back at me. This must have been how we had met, looking up into his smiling eyes; my eyes puffy and red from tears. Now he was smiling as he watched me die, sitting there in my abhorrent hell.
The panic began to wear away, as his hand reached out to touch my face. "It'll be alright, Dragonfly, it'll be alright." Why were his words so comforting to me? Despite my nerves being dead, I could see the muscles in my body tensing, having small seizures, struggling against the restraints.
The ache of The Disease piercing my thoughts now. I looked back at him, knowing a look of sorrow and fear must have been showing obviously on my face. He frowned, and patted my cheek. I couldn't feel it, my skin numb. "Just a little while longer Dragonfly. You'll be alright."
And it went so suddenly. I was looking at his familiar face, then suddenly, darkness. The pain, the fear, the panic, all worn away completely, leaving nothing.


My eyes shot open, watching at the needle approached the flesh of my arm. "Are you sure this wont hurt?"
"I promise you, this wont hurt a bit. It'll all be over before you know it." I felt comforted by his words, knowing he would never lie to me. "Trust me, Dragonfly."
"...I trust you."
The needle pressed into my skin, he hesitated a moment, his finger lingering over the plunger, before pushing it down slowly. I watched the syringe empty, feeling the fluid flowing into my veins. "Trust me Dragonfly," he said once more.
"I trust you." And I did. Before the pain sank in, and pain was the only thing keeping my eyes open...or maybe, I couldn't close my eyes at all.
"It's artificial. Don't forget...Just an illusion...."
The Disease took its hold of me. And I was of The Disease, and The Disease was of me; and I could not survive without it.