Note: This story contains subject matter not suitable for all audiences.
At first, the pain was exhilarating. Adrenaline numbed him as he made the first attempt to cut off his left thumb. One out of five. The rusted pair of scissors he found laying beside one of the homes he walked past was the only thing he could think of using. He was sure it would work.
The bone proved to be the most problematic. He could not muster the strength to cut through it. But the damage was done. Blood covered his trousers. His hand throbbed with pain. He could not handle any more. The scissors dropped from his hand as he tried to stand upright. The cheap vodka he drank beforehand took its toll along with the pain that was now hitting him like a stampede.
It is done, he thought to himself. It is done.
He wrapped the wounded hand in white linen he found discarded on an afternoon search a week ago.
Some people saw him and all of the blood-stained clothes. Their voices echoed in his mind.
“Agh fokof man,” Fuck off man, he mumbled as he tried to stay upright.
Someone grabbed at him and he tried to fight the person, but to no avail. He succumbed to the pain and alcohol.
***
The pain in his head felt like a constant pounding of hammers. The light was sharp and the noises disorientating. Where he was was a mystery. He looked to the side and saw tubes coming from his arm. His left arm was bandaged; it was also numb. He could not feel a thing. Someone spoke next to him in a language he could not understand.
“We needed to amputate the hand,” the strange figure communicated.
“Wat maak ek hier,” What am I doing here, he asked in a slurred and slowed-down speech.
She did not answer him, she merely wrote down something on her board.
The strength came from nowhere. He pulled the tubes from his arm causing some blood to drip down his arm. The hospital gown was all that he had on. He could hear the nurses talk but no one tried to stop him. He mumbled again, “Waar is ek?” Where am I? as he tried to find the exit. It did not take long.
The sudden surge of light into his eyes fed the headache even more. I tried closing his eyes but the damage was done. He looked down first at the arm with the now somewhat dried blood and then at the bandaged arm. He smiled at the outfit he was wearing.
Cars began swerving around him. He did not walk on the pedestrian walkway. After the second or third hooter, he managed to find the walkway. A couple of minutes into the walk he found a robot at which he could stand. It was within 30 minutes of getting out of the hospital that someone felt sympathetic enough to give him some money. He thanked the person in the best possible manner. “Dankie meneer, dankie.” Thank you sir thank you.
The first problem arrived when he felt for the pocket in his jacket. All he had was the hospital gown. He felt the wind blow over his naked backside. Before finishing the contemplation of where to put the money, someone else offered him more money. He walked to the car and took the money saying the same mantra. “Dankie meneer, dankie.” Thank you sir thank you.
“Wat het met die hand gebeur?” What happened to your hand?
The conversation struck him as if a fist. He did not know how to respond. No one acknowledged his existence, now he had to respond to a question. He opened his mouth, with some drool dripping from his mouth. The guy drove away without wanting a reply. He was back to contemplating where to put the money.
He looked at his bandaged hand and felt a deep throbbing pain getting more intense. Without thinking much, and with the money in his mouth, he pulled the bandage and started unravelling it. With the bandage on the ground, he looked at the stump and fresh stitches. Again, a car stopped and offered him money. No conversation, just a dehumanised hand holding a green banknote. The thankful mantra left his lips as he took the money from his mouth and held it in his right hand.
Postscriptum
This story is something I have been thinking about for quite a while now. I am not sure if the product is anything like what I had in mind, but it is my first attempt at putting something down on paper. I hope that it did not shock you too much if you read it. Hopefully, the warning was enough to well warn you!
In any case, if you read it, I hope you enjoyed it.
For now, happy reading and keep well.
All of the writings are my own, albeit inspired by some strange and random dreams I have been getting. The photographs are also my own, taken with my Nikon D3200 and Nikkor 50mm lens.