Stolen

To be honest, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just standing over an unconscious body with a scalpel in my hand and a white-green light hanging over my head. I can feel the water dripping out of the rusted foset. I've been told to remove the skin from the finger tips and stitch new skin in its place. A shiver slowly crawls down my spine and makes my hands start to shake. I scream for help in my mind hoping to awaken something inside my semi-conscious mind that will jump out and tear my captures to pieces. I take a long look at the person I'm about to cut open. She has blue hair and is wearing a raggedy sweatshirt and a miniskirt, along with a pair of steel-toe boots and ripped purple stockings. She was breathing none the less but she has no idea what is to be forced on her through me. I look at my reflection in her white painted nails as I slowly turn her hand over.