When we had sat in his office Ezra had said, "it's painless."
He had poured me a glass of water from the glass pitcher on his desk and told me, "it's nothing to worry about."
He had smiled his charming smile. Disarming me, lulling me in.
Ezra had promised. Ezra had sworn.
As it happened, Ezra had lied. It is only now that he has tightened the restraints that he tells me the truth of what he intends to do.
"You'll feel a little discomfort," he tells me. "Well, actually that's not quite right. The important thing is that after this… Boom! No more pain. Not ever. Apart from physical pain - I never did claim to be a miracle worker."
I open my mouth to tell him no, that I've changed my mind, that I do not want this. He promised me it would not hurt. He promised me that it would be painless.
I glance frantically around the surgery. No, that's not the right word. This is not a surgery. It's a laboratory. A mad scientist's workshop. I struggle and tell him no. I've reconsidered. I watch as he approaches the cage on the floor. The thing inside, it growls. It growls gleefully.
"I'm afraid we cannot do that," Ezra tells me, his voice calm. He unlatches the cage. "I'm told the procedure doesn't hurt much. It's a lot like pulling teeth and afterwards, oh afterwards you won't feel a thing."