This is an entry for the Cracked Flash Fiction weekly writing contest. They provide the first sentence, and writers have 300 words maximum to create some fun. Here’s my entry for this week, which is a continuation of the story I wrote for Cracked a few weeks ago, Poker Face:
“This is incredibly disturbing to me,” the auditor pressed his gloved finger into the steel flake embedded in Avi’s thigh. The same one she’d pushed just moments before in an attempt to commit suicide. The micro-injector implanted near her femoral vein, filled with enough etorphine to kill her instantly… didn’t kill her. Avi stood there punching her thigh, not even trying to be sly about it because it wouldn’t matter once she crumpled to the ground. That bolt of pain was supposed to be her last experience on earth.
It never came.
The auditor pressed her leg over and over with each word: “This… (push) is… (push) disturbing… (hard push). The Lieutenant tries to leave us and is thwarted by technology- again! What are the odds? Just like the C-line malfunctioning, right Lieutenant?”
Avi thought she might retch. She didn’t want to die, but she was supposed to be dead. And now they would hook her up to T-95, a mixture of sodium thiopental and a classified element. T-95 had a 100% success rate at garnering truth from any subject. She couldn’t let them put that into her.
Right where she sat, the attendants began strapping her arms to the chair, and a man wearing a white lab coat entered the room.
“This is incredibly disturbing to me,” Avi said, and she stuck her tongue out at the auditor. He smiled, thinking her a brazen captive, her insolence, alluring. When the blood began pouring out of Avi’s mouth, he understood.
“Call the surgeon!” He shouted and flew at her, pulling her jaw apart, his hand slipping on her blood. Again he pried her open and wedged his arm in her mouth. She gagged. He could see his reflection in Avi’s wide eyes, feel her trembling beneath him like an earthquake.