Number 7

I can feel my belly button.

The thing about paralysis is not that you can’t feel any part of your body, it’s actually the exact opposite. You can feel all of it. Every last muscle tendon, each one of your pores, you can feel them all, as if they are all enclosed somehow, unable to move. You can feel the parts of you you’ve never felt before, like your belly button.

You see, I am paralyzed, so I know this. This is not an old condition, this is all pretty new to me. I was on my way to a friend’s house, we were going to watch tonight’s episode of our favorite show, I was bringing the beer. I decided to walk, it was a nice evening and I thought it would be a waste to take a taxi. So I was walking through the park and…

I… Why am I doing this? Who am I talking to? Myself?

Right, pull yourself together. His name, or, more precisely, he is called The Piece Killer. The press came up with that clever title because he likes to leave pieces of his victims all across town. He chops them up and across the span of several weeks leaves parts for the police to collect. I am victim number 7.

He took both my legs. And an arm. It was the same thing all the time. He’d come in, smiling like a kid at Christmas, holding a big knife and he’d start cutting. I can’t really see what he does, being paralyzed, but he shows the parts to me once he’s done. I want to hurl, seeing my own leg in his hands, but I can’t. I want to cry, but I can’t. I want to die already, but he won’t let me. He cauterizes the wound, so I won’t lose blood, he says.

I love you. This isn’t directed to a specific person, but to all of you who I never got the chance to tell, and to those I did. Even… what was her name? The girl that sat behind me in 3^rd grade, she had that braid with the strange ribbons. God, she used to make my life a living hell, throw spit balls at me. She moved away the summer between 3^rd and 4^th grade, and I never told her I loved her. So, I love you, girl with strange ribbons… what was her name?

He’s back. I hope this is it. I hope he does it this time - kills me. I… I can’t take much more of this. Hell, I can’t take any more of this. I lost it days ago. Talking to myself, wondering about my job, as if it matters. I want to scream at him to just end it. He’s got his knife, he’s bending down. It’s like a game - guess which piece he’ll take this time. I want to… I want to…

Sarah. Sarah Perkins. That was her--

I can’t feel my belly button.