Lobotomy

The motion stopped. Finally.

Becca lay in the wreckage of the bed. Her limbs felt like water. Her lungs burned, trying to pull oxygen from the thin, conditioned air.

She stared at the ceiling mirror. The reflection was blurry. A smear of pale skin and blonde hair. She didn't recognize herself.

The Amazons stepped back. They stood like statues, chests heaving slightly.

Art stood by the bed. He was adjusting his cufflinks. As if he hadn't just spent hours dismantling a human being.

-Status? he asked.

The thin woman stepped forward. She shone a penlight into Becca’s eyes.

Becca didn't blink. The light didn't hurt. It just felt far away.

-Pupils dilated, the doctor said. Dopamine overload. Serotonin syndrome imminent. She's high.

-Natural high, Art said.

He leaned down. Placed a hand on Becca’s forehead. His hand was still cold.

-Becca.

Becca rolled her head. It felt heavy. Like a bowling ball on a string.

-Hmm?

-Where are you? Art asked.

Becca licked her lips. They tasted like salt.

-Floating, she whispered. I'm floating.

-What about the money? Art asked. Do you want the money?

Becca frowned. The word didn't make sense. Money.

-Paper, she mumbled. Just paper.

Art stroked her hair.

-And your mind? How is your mind?

Becca closed her eyes. She looked inside.

She giggled. It was a wet, broken sound.

-Smooth, she said. It feels smooth. Like a polished stone.

She reached up. Grabbed Art's wrist. Her grip was weak.

-You're doing it. You're fucking my brains out. It's a lobotomy.

The thin woman looked up from her tablet.

-Subject is verbalizing the desired outcome. Dissociation is complete.

Art looked at Becca. Her eyes were welcoming the void.

-I want to be empty, Becca whispered. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. Please. Make me empty.

Art pulled his hand away.

-You're almost there, babe.

He turned to the Amazons.

-Bring the cage.