Dont Fear....

Stitches

I nervously glance at the door. Waiting for the doctor to take these stitches out made me anxious. Would it hurt? It hurt to get them.

My knee bounced, and I steadied it with my hand. I didn't want the doctor to know how scared I was.

There was a knock on the door and in he came, gliding into the room with a smile and a pristine white coat.

"Hello Jane, how are you today?" He asked, shaking my hand. I returned the handshake limply.

"Alright Jane, so we're here today to take these stitches out, is that right?" He asked, and I nodded, swallowing a golf ball sized bundle of nerves. He snapped on his nitrile gloves and rolled up to me on his stool. He touched the stitches and I tried not to wince. They were still so sensitive.

"So, what I'm going to do is snip the middle of these stitches, and then the rest will just fall right off. Let's get started. Lie back please."

I did and closed my eyes. I could feel the pressure release as the scissors glided through the strings. My dried, cracked lips began to bleed as I opened my mouth, no longer sealed by the coarse black thread.

"How do we feel now Jane?" The doctor asked with a smile. I rubbed my lips and weakly replied.

"My name is Erica. Please, let me go!" I sobbed. He tsked and went to his dirty drawer. I struggled against my restraints, again looking at the wooden door that lead out of the basement.

"I can see the wound hasn't healed just yet," he said, whirling around with a needle and a spool of black thread.