Little Pricks

The woman stares into the bathtub full of needles.

She can already feel her throat beginning to close.  In less than half a minute she’ll be unable to breathe.  Tears streaming from her eyes, she sticks her arm down into the needles.  She gasps at the pain of countless needles puncturing her skin.

Her fingers wrap around a large syringe, and she pulls her bleeding arm out of the needles.  She quickly injects the epinephrine into her upper leg, and the tightness in her chest releases.

“Did you like my game?” her son asks innocently from behind her.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s