Part III

In article <[email protected]> sbd@douglass (S. B. Douglass) writes:

>Unfortunately, I can't figure out how to kill the
>monster, so there'll probably be more.

After a while, Jeanne seemed to calm down and accept her fate. I must confess resignation myself.

The only difference was that with Cheryl, we could talk about it. By locking with her mouth I had essentially silenced her for eternity. Her hands were still free, though, so she could still write messages to me when she was coherent. The fact that I had to practically drag her entire body around in order to move seemed almost minor compared to the greater horror progressing.

One morning a few days later, Jeanne noticed that her face was almost completely gone, including her eyes. She wrote me a quick message:

take me to the kichen
I want to see the sun

We went to the kitchen, and I saw that Jeanne had a large glass sliding door looking out over her back yard. I stood in a way that would allow Jeanne to see what might be the last sunrise of her life, but I was almost falling over, and Jeanne helped support us by pushing against the kitchen counter. She wrote again:

lie down on your back

I saw that I could lie on my back, and Jeanne could look out over my body to see in an almost normal head position. I sat down on the linoleum and lay back...

ARRRGH!!! I felt a horrific pain in my back and abdomen, and I was stopped from leaning back somehow by something solid. I slumped on my side, in agony. I couldn't move my legs or feel anything below my waist.

Jeanne had put a knife through my back, severing my spinal cord. When I leaned back, the weight of my body forced the knife through my body. Tears welled through Jeanne's eyes, and she looked at my face one more time before her consciousness seemed to fade.

The orgasms wouldn't come anymore — I couldn't feel anything from my groin area. My mind wouldn't be so distracted anymore. I had to think of some way to get that knife out...

I couldn't reach over and pull it out; maneuvering my back at all made fluid poor out of the wound — blood, I could see by the puddle I was lying in. Was my vena cava cut? If so, I wouldn't be able to stay coherent mu