Daphne was unfamiliar with the tools with the
exception of a scalpel that lay next to the silver contraption. A
rib-spreader? Daphne guessed. She did notice the lack of sanitary
supplies—alcohol, iodine, etc.
“I believe we’re ready. Mrs. Stone, she still
sniveling? You’d think humans would be less … emotional? Death is their
inevitable end. I don’t understand why they are so affected by the course of
life,” Calvin said in disgust.
“You may want to keep it down, Cal. What if she hears
you?”
“So what? If we as a species can control our emotions
then they should be able to do so, too. We have far more time to develop
lasting relationships. I have more right to emotional outbursts than a mere
human who lives far too short a life to feel so deeply.”
She didn’t know what to think of his words. A reply
sat on the end of her tongue. Something along the lines of the short lives of a
human may very well be the reason they feel as deeply as they do. The lack of
time forcing them to hold onto every little thing that much tighter, but she
just shook her head, not wanting an argument. She took her place on the other
side of Terry, across from Calvin and right next to the tray that had been set
up in her absence.
“Now, hand me the scalpel,” Calvin said.
“You’re not going to use any antiseptic? No pain meds,
either?” Daphne asked, but she complied with his request.
“If he transforms, he won’t need it. If not, well,
he’ll be dead, and what good will it do him?” Calvin pressed the blade of the
scalpel into the divot of Terry’s collarbone.
Blood wept from the incision. Daphne restrained
herself, refusing to bend down and lap at the pooling crimson.
*Today's Snippet Saturday comes from my short story 'To Save Lives', which is available on Amazon.
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