I limp in and am once again swarmed by people with IVs, headphones, and receptors. Hopefully, this will be the last time today, but I recognize two of the men as the boiler and the peeler; therefore, I assume I will have to come back at least once more. They strapped me down on the gelid, metal bed, or table rather. I take a second to prepare myself, but look up as I hear a whip hurtling at my side.

I hear screaming, but I know it is in the back of my head. I haven't given in yet. I refuse give in to something as petty as the whip. *Crack* and the whip hits me again. Over and over and over again I feel the thrashes on my side. I only know the first to be real, but they all feel that way. I know some are merely projected into my mind through all these contraptions attached to me, but they have certainly mastered the pain without the legitimate physical side effects.

"It's pure, clever science," they say. "We give you as many real as your body can handle and then load on the fake ones, but you can't tell the difference. It’s genius really," they say. Genius? Maybe, but that doesn’t mean they should do it.

All I know is that the pain is real and I want it to stop. Almost as if they read my mind, the punishment is terminated. One down, three to go. “Maybe this won't be so bad after all,” I think too soon.

I feel him grab my skin and pull. It's peeling time. My body trembles and cries for help, but luckily, my mouth ignores the cries and remains silent. I know that my leg is now nothing more than blood and bone. All the skin is gone thanks to this round. I cringe as another piece of skin is grabbed and pulled back. Over and over and over again I feel the stripping. I don't know how I remain quiet through this, but my mouth has not yet betrayed me. I am raw: I know that. Now, the extent of my rawness I am unsure. Based on the number of times I felt it, I wouldn't have any skin left on my arms or legs, but I know the "genius" of these cruel people, so I probably am only peeled on one leg.

Finally, the peeling is concluded. A smile has nearly reached my lips when I feel the pluck. I almost scream from delight this time. Yes, having your toenails and fingernails plucked is painful, but it is by far the easiest one to remain silent through. All each pluck warrants is a slight cringe. I won't have to come back today. I just know it. The boiling is one of my least favorites, but I can make it through. The plucking ceases and I wonder how many nails I have left. I hope they spared my big toenails: I quite like those.

Steadily, they lower my hand into a pot of boiling water. My body tells me to scream, but my mouth remains loyal. My other hand is lowered in as well. Then, my feet and legs and arms. I wonder how much is real. My mouth is barely able to keep quiet. The pain is too great. My mouth is about to explode when it suspends. I smile. Three down, zero to go. I am done!

I acted too soon. My head is being submerged into the boiling water. Is this real? I refuse to let myself scream at a fake one. After a few seconds they lower me farther and my nose is flooding. My mouth barely has enough air to do so, but it lets out a weak scream. I am not ashamed for screaming because I know it saved my life until I hear the laughs and high fives of the punishers. It had been fake. My head wasn't really being boiled. I would have been fine. They unstrap me and allow me to get up. I crawl out of the room with tears streaming down my face in a desperate cry for help. I will have to return again today because of something fake. I don’t even, can’t even grasp this. It sure felt real.