Chainsaw

I was in an old warehouse with two male friends. We weren’t supposed to be in there, but we thought it would be cool to break in and hang out. Then we were attacked by some other guy. He threw my friends to the floor. When he attacked me I fought back, but then he picked up a chainsaw and used it to cut me into three pieces.

My friends got up and killed him as soon as that happened, and they managed to somehow fit my body back together so that I wouldn’t die before getting to the hospital.

We almost stopped for breakfast on the way to the hospital because I felt really hungry, but then I panicked and said I was going to die soon if they didn’t get me to the hospital.

When we got to the hospital, they made us wait a long time, and it seemed like I knew a lot of the staff there. There was a bottle of clonopin on one of the nurse’s desks with my name on it, but I couldn’t take it until the nurse was there. I wouldn’t tell anyone what happened to me because I was afraid we would be in trouble for killing that guy, since we weren’t supposed to be in that warehouse to begin with. I just kept saying a man with a chainsaw cut me into three pieces and crying.

Then I was about to go into surgery. My doctor was an older woman. I asked if there was a chance I might die in surgery. The doctor said there was. I told her I wanted to talk to a priest first. I was afraid of dying without confessing the killing and that I would not get into heaven.

The doctor couldn’t get a priest and asked if a chaplan would do. I said yes, but I was panicking about not having a priest. She went to look for the chaplan.

While she was gone, I looked at a television in a waiting room. It was a very old television from the 70’s. There was only one show and one channel. It turned out to be about the priest the doctor couldn’t get for me. The priest was working in a dark office and in the office was a long, larger-than-a-poster sized photo that the priest had been saving from a newspaper.

The tv camera slowly panned down the picture from top to bottom. It was of a girl’s body sitting in a kitchen sink full of acid. The kitchen was dark and dirty and the body had no skin or facial features. Everything was bloody and the hair was wet and matted with blood. It panned down and revealed other things, including some other newspaper clippings pinned to the wall. I suddenly understood that the same man that attacked me with the chainsaw was the man who had killed the girl in the photo, and that he was a serial killer. The priest was looking for him because he thought he could help him find God and make him stop killing.

The doctor returned and I finally wanted to tell her what my friends and I had done. I wanted to let my friends know it was okay first, but I couldn’t get them alone to explain things to them. I started crying again and then I told everyone within earshot what had happened, explaining that my friends saved me from a killer.