She’d wait until her acquisition fell asleep, and then in went the needle, quick and easy, the skin accepting it so that only a little dot of blood marked its passing. Lungs that took steady breaths in spite of the exertion
. “Who shall conceive the horrors of my secret toil as I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the grave, trying to animate lifeless clay?”
-Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
***
It started with the skin
i counted 300 lashes that left me with welts as big as the whip. it really scared me