I wrote this Eons ago.

I laid upon the table. It's icy feel stung my exposed skin.

I was shaking and he was there standing over me, I didn't know him but he knew me. 

My eyes fluttered open to reveal his sly fox like grin. 

"Are you ready?" He asked.

I was. 

The initial break hurt the most, the crack of ribs, rush of blood, the cold stab of the scapula through my chest. He turned up the music to drown out the noises of cracking bones and capillaries. He fashioned two hinges for each side and drilled them in, the pressure tickling a little. I tried looking up but he stopped me, "NO PEEKING!" he yelled and then there was that fox like grin again.

He dug his fingers deep into my chest and like old ancient doors exposed the underbelly of my being. "Grab the jar!" he yelled as a blinding light burst through my skin and bone. In one quick swoop the blazing light was now contained into a little black painted  jar with four letters in white that were still wet and stained my fingers. I felt colder than before, a shallow rattled breath and his smile was all that remained. And for a moment I was scared, vulnerable. He squeezed my hand. I knew what I needed to do.

And so I sat up and we gazed into the abyss.