Worst Enemy

The blade-wielding woman is already in the room. I watch her nonchalantly in my astral form. The aggressor of my aggressor.

How careful her prowl, and her prodding, methodical. It's just a matter of time, and I look as if in a glass box at the emotions competing for my attention. There is glee, a sick, vengeful kind I detest. Also reverence, for a new era, my life will change with this killing.

An odd place for a killing, this one. What kind of crazy kills in white, and with the lights on?

I chuckle at my own self-entertainment as the surgeon calls out and moves her scalpel into a specific spot in the opened head of my body. To think that just a few tiny cuts will cure my psychosis for good.

"Is this really it?" I see her hand poised to strike.

"It is." I'm about to be cured. All the pain of being confused and outcast is about to die with those brain cells.

Snip. CRACK.

"What is this?" And my astral form explodes with pain.

Snip. CRACK. Somehow I'm dissolving into nothing.

"Wait-- how much am I--"

Snip. CRACK.

"I--"

Snip.