The Hole

The thin woman tested the drill. It whirled slowly, then at a medium pace, then quickly. Then it stopped and she stepped between the beds.

She looked at Art, then at Becca.

-The female first, she said.

The Amazons moved. They clamped Becca’s head.

One hand on her chin. One on the back of her neck.

Becca stared at Art.

-I'm here, Art whispered. -Soon we’ll be inside each other again. In our minds.

-I’m scared, Becca thought, and Art heard the echo.

The thin woman leaned in. She swabbed Becca’s shaved temple with iodine. It felt cold. Stinging.

She raised the drill to the skin.

-No, Art and Becca said in unison.

The thin woman stopped. She looked from one to the other.

-What?

-I want to do it, Art growled as he looked at the doctor. Unstrap me. Give me the drill.

Becca shook violently in her restraints in agreement.

The thin woman hesitated. She looked at the Amazons.

-Fine.

The Amazons undid Art's buckles. He sat up. He took a deep breath and got up. His legs wobbled and he grabbed the bed. He stood himself up straight and walked to the tray, picking up the drill.

He walked to Becca’s bed. He stood over her head.

-Open, he said.

She looked at the drill and then at him hovering over her.

She parted her lips. He stepped closer and let his member fall on them. She took him in softly.

The thin women stepped in, holding a tube of cream.

-Anesthetic, she said, lathering it onto Art before placing him back in Becca’s mouth.

Art groaned. He leaned forward, bracing himself. He positioned the tip of the drill against the iodine stain on her temple.

-Don't stop, he whispered.

Becca worked her jaw. The rhythm began. Her head went numb.

Art squeezed the trigger and pressed into her skin as he pressed into her.

Becca squeezed her eyes shut. She focused on him. On the act. On the rhythm. On staying raveled.

Then the skin broke and the drill started to sink in as Art did too.

He shuddered.

The drill cut through the bone.

He released the trigger as it kissed the brain.

He pulled the drill out, then he pulled himself out as Becca tried to hang on.

Blood trickled down her temple.

Art looked in the hole in her head. But he couldn’t see inside.