Please Wait For Your Doctor
Janine was a track runner and needed a few exams before she could compete at her next event. Today was the cardiologist. She was stuck in Dr. Ena's clinic, fidgeting in her jogging outfit that bared smooth, dark olive skin.
The clock on the wall ticked mercilessly. She'd been waiting for over 45 minutes, her phone battery nearly dead. Boredom consumed her, and that typically meant trouble. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She cracked open the exam room door and peered into the hallway to see if she could get an ETA. Empty. The nurse's station was around the corner, voices murmuring faintly. What harm could a quick wander do?
Janine walked down the corridor, her curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar surroundings. Moving around felt good at least. As she turned a corner, she spotted a door at the end of a dimly lit hall, barricaded with yellow caution tape that sagged. The sign read "Authorized Personnel Only—Do Not Enter." But the door was cracked open just a sliver. The old latch didn't quite close on its own anymore. It was inviting her in.
Janine's pulse quickened in excitement, and she pressed on her chest to calm her heart. She glanced over her shoulder, then slipped through the gap, the tape brushing her arm.
Inside, the air was dusty. The room was a relic, untouched for what seemed like decades. Faded posters peeled from the walls, advertising outdated medical equipment. Old filing cabinets stood, their drawers half-open and spilling yellowed papers. The floor was a mosaic of cracked tiles, some buckled upward as if the ground beneath had shifted. Janine took a tentative step forward, her sneaker crunching on grit.
Then, a sound. A low rumble from below, like chanting? It vibrated through the soles of her feet, faint but insistent. Her heart raced now. She edged deeper into the room to hear it better. The tiles felt spongy underfoot, giving slightly with each step.
Panic hit her like a starting gun. "Oh no," she muttered, spinning on her heel to bolt for the door. But it was too late. The floor betrayed her, a section of tiles collapsing in a cascade of debris and dust. Janine plummeted, arms flailing as she tumbled into the void below.
Consciousness returned to Janine in fragments. First, the cold metal beneath her spine, air moving across her naked form. Her eyes opened to harsh fluorescent light. beyond which was the hole in the ceiling where she fell.
She tried to lift her hand to shield her face, but found it wouldn't move. Leather straps bit into her wrists, holding them flat against the table's surface. The same at her ankles. She lifted her head -the only part of her that could still move freely- and saw her body laid out bare.
Her brown skin was covered in goosebumps. The athletic tone she'd built through years of training lay useless, every curve and plane exposed. White adhesive pads dotted her chest, thin wires trailing from them to a machine that beeped in time with her accelerating pulse. The sound was humiliating and frantic. Each electronic chirp exposed her terror.
Six or seven women kept sliding in and out of focus. Some wore white coats, stethoscopes draped around their necks. But two of them... two wore something else entirely. Robes of deep crimson, embroidered with symbols that seemed to shift when she looked at them directly. Bone decorations hung from their waist, clicking softly with each movement. Their bodies -one taller and dark, the other wiry and fair-skinned with auburn hair- were bare beneath the separations in fabric.
"She's awake." One of the white coats stepped closer, her pale face conveying anger. It was Dr. Ena, the name badge revealed. Her face was bubbly and would be inviting had she not been consumed with anger.
Janine's throat worked, trying to form words. "Where... what is..."
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" The doctor said.
The memory came back in pieces. The clinic she'd been exploring. The old floor tiles are giving way beneath her feet. The sensation of falling, falling...
"Intentions are irrelevant." The pale shaman's gritty voice cut through her protest. "The seal is broken. For one thousand years, we've waited for the alignment, for the moment when the barrier grows thin enough to reinforce. And you..." She gestured at Janine's prone form with disgust. "You crashed through at the precise moment of the demon’s binding."
The monitor's beeping grew more insistent. Janine could feel her heart slamming against her sternum, each beat a vivid palpitation reminding her of her vulnerability. The EKG leads picked up every panicked contraction, translated it into jagged peaks on the screen. The other doctor, a stout east-asian looking woman who donned full face covering, glanced at the readout.
"She knows her deeds; her guilt is on display," she murmured to her colleague. "You can't hide from us."
"Please." Janine pulled against the restraints, leather creaking but holding firm. Her muscles stood out in sharp relief as she strained, tendons visible beneath the skin. "I don't understand. Just let me go. I won't tell anyone about this!"
"Let you go?" The dark shaman laughed. "The demon we sought to bind is already testing the weakened seal. Do you know what happens when such entities break free? When they crawl up from the deep places where we've kept them caged?"
She didn't wait for an answer. "They feast." She leaned down until her face was inches from Janine's, revealing small facial scars and madness in those wild gray eyes.
"There must be punishment." A blonde woman with thick, round glasses in green scrubs pulled on latex gloves as she approached.
Janine's heart lurched, skipped a beat. The sound from the EKG laid out the adrenaline surge for all to witness. "No. No, you can't!" she yelled.
The shamanic woman’s terrifying gaze distracted Janine from the long, off-white cloth she held in her hand, covered in black markings. The woman tugged it tensely between her hands and slid it into Janine’s open mouth. Janine whimpered and shook her head, her protests muffled gurgling. Nothing she did stopped the woman from tying it around her head and securing it in place.
“Be wary of her attempts to sway you. This woman may be possessed, after all,” the shaman said to the others. She took another cloth, wider than the first, and draped it over Janine’s face.It was thin enough for Janine to see through, yet hid her pitiful expressions from the gathering.
The cart wheeled closer. The nurse placed her palm flat against Janine's chest, feeling the desperate rhythm. Nobody looked into Janine’s eyes now, nor did they even heed the squirming of her body. The only form of communication they seemed to trust was the involuntary motions within her chest.
"She begs for mercy," the young woman said with glee.
"The punishment must fit the transgression," the shaman asserted. The doctors and nurses moved, adjusting the table's height, angling the overhead light. Janine’s chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath shallow and quick. The monitor's display showed her heart rate climbing—120, 130, 160. She lay in complete helplessness.
A petite nurse with skin about the same color as Janine’s, auburn hair in a ponytail, lifted a clear bottle and squeezed a viscous gel onto her hands. Janine thrashed against the restraints, accomplishing nothing as the woman approached her. The nurse rubbed the gel on her chest in an intimate glide that made her muscles contract involuntarily. Thick, viscous, spreading across her skin as gloved hands worked it over the area where her heart thundered beneath. The doctor's fingers coated every inch between her breasts, up toward her clavicles, down along her ribs. The substance clung to her brown skin, glistening under the harsh lights.
Dr. Ena picked up the defibrillator paddles from their cradles. Chrome and gray plastic, heavier than they looked. The doctor smiled as the machine charged, its rising pitch filling the room. The display showed the building voltage: 100 joules, 150, 200.
The paddles descended toward Janine's chest. She could see them coming, could do nothing to stop them. They pressed against her gel-slicked frame, one just below her right clavicle, the other against her ribs on the left side. Her squirming and heavy breathing made them glide across her skin.
The doctor paid her no mind, pressing harder to trap her wriggling form in place. The pressure alone made her heart skip, the organ seeming to sense what was coming.
"Charging to 200. Clear."
The shock hit like a train. Every muscle in Janine's body contracted at once, her back arching off the table as far as the restraints allowed. But it was her heart that took the brunt; the current disrupting organized contractions into silence, then chaos. For a moment that lasted forever, the organ simply quivered, unable to remember how to beat.
Then it squirmed back into motion, harder than before. Slamming against her ribs with renewed panic, trying to make up for the lost seconds. The machine shrieked with alarms as her rhythm went wild. Premature beats, skipped beats, barely a pattern.
Janine lay there, chest heaving in frantic breaths. One of the doctors placed a stethoscope against her delicate, splaying ribs. The woman moved the chest piece slowly, making circles in the gel while tracking the chaos. Her grin conveyed a satisfaction that escalated with every heartbeat.
The blonde nurse approached, pale hand reaching out, thick glasses covering her eyes. She couldn't resist placing her hand over Janine's sternum once more, feeling the volatile motion. Her fingers spread wide, palm pressed flat, absorbing every desperate contraction between those billowing lungs.
"She suffers greatly," the woman reported to the delight of the others.
They gave her thirty seconds. Thirty seconds for her heart to almost find its rhythm again, for the organ to begin to hope the torture was over. The gel had warmed slightly from her body heat, from the electrical discharge. Sweat beaded on her skin, mixing with the conductive medium.
"Again," the lead doctor announced. "250 joules this time."
The paddles found their positions once more. Janine's covered eyes went wide, a defeated yell into her soaked gag. She could feel her heart racing faster, as if it knew what was coming. The muscle pounded so hard she could see her chest moving with each beat, even between the fibers of the cloth, battering her delicate lungs.
The second shock was worse. The current made her body so tense she thought she'd break. Her heart went into a wild dance - fibrillating for a moment before lurching back into a rhythm that bore no resemblance to normal. The monitor showed a jagged mountain range where smooth curves should have been.
Hands palpated her chest between shocks, fingers pressing between her ribs. They weren't looking for diagnostic information - the EKG told them everything medical they needed to know. This was purely for satisfaction, to physically explore the organ's distress. They shared in this vengeance, greedily taking in Janine’s distress.
300 joules next. The machine's whine seemed to last forever as it charged. Janine's heart hammered wildly in anticipation of the coming assault. She could feel it jumping in a futile effort, each beat an expression that encouraged her captors. The next shock came twice in a row before her body could relax. It blanked her vision white. Every nerve fired at once, her muscles locking rigid. But she remained hideously aware of her heart's helpless writhing for their amusement.
"The muscle is weakening," the petite nurse said, palpating carefully. "The contractions are becoming more desperate but less coordinated. It won't be much longer."
Dr. Ena continued her assault methodically, professionally. 350 joules driven into her suffering ventricles. Her body jerked, and her breathing came in hard gasps.
The moment arrived with surprising quietness. One heartbeat, irregular and desperate—then nothing resembling a beat at all. Janine's heart simply shivered in her chest, a fine trembling that accomplished nothing. No blood moved. No oxygen reached her brain. Just the useless quivering of muscle tissue that had forgotten its purpose.
"V-fib," the other doctor announced. Janine wondered if the shocks would end in a bittersweet fade. The blonde was already drawing up epinephrine, the needle catching the light. The other nurse positioned herself at Janine's side, hands finding the proper position on the gel-slicked chest. She palpated Janine's chest carefully, feeling between the ribs. Finding the right spot, she positioned the needle - long, wickedly thick, designed to penetrate deep.
The needle went in slowly. Through skin, between ribs. Janine's eyes rolled back, still conscious enough to feel the needle sliding toward her heart. The tip found the frantically quivering muscle, penetrated the muscle. The nurse's thumb depressed the plunger. Liquid adrenaline flooded directly into her heart tissue. A massive contraction transmitted through the syringe... Then another. Not organized beats but savage spasms as the stimulant forced the exhausted muscle back toward function.
"Compressions," Dr. Ena said.
Her hands stacked over Janine's sternum, directly above her struggling heart. She leaned in with her full weight, compressing. The ribs flexed, bent, creaked under the assault. But it was Janine's heart that bore the real violence - caught between the chest wall and the spine, squeezed like fruit in a press.
Each compression forced the organ to empty, then allowed it to fill. Manual circulation, keeping just enough blood moving to preserve consciousness. Janine could feel everything—her heart being crushed, released, crushed again.
"Still in V-fib," someone reported. "Hit her again."
The paddles returned. 360 joules this time, maximum power. The shock slammed through her chest, making her heart seize completely.
More compressions. Harder this time, the doctor putting her full body weight behind each thrust. Janine's heart, caught in the brutal rhythm, began to show signs of organized activity. Not quite beating, but trying. The monitor flickered between flatline and something that might become a rhythm.
"She's trying to convert. One more shock should do it."
They charged the defibrillator again, the next shock slammed through Janine’s chest once more. They sat back watching her heart's confused attempts to beat. The organ pounded in three rapid beats, a pause, a flutter, two more beats. No pattern, just a panicked effort insufficient to fuel Janine's rapidly fading consciousness. Every fiber of the heart muscle fired at once, then fell silent.
Then a beat. Weak, uncoordinated, but unmistakably a heartbeat. Another followed, stronger. Then another. Janine's heart clawed its way back to function, each contraction visible through her chest wall. The organ beat so forcefully they could all watch its recovery.
"Beautiful," said the brunette doctor. "She's conscious and panicking again."
They were right. The adrenaline had turned Janine's heart wild. It soon hammered at over 200 beats per minute, each contraction an explosion in her chest. She could feel the organ straining, working harder than it ever had before.
They shocked her again, lower voltage this time, just enough to make her heart stumble. They were toying with it as Janine recovered, keeping her in the twilight of consciousness. The monitor showed wild peaks and valleys as the organ tried to find stability where none was allowed. It simply beat because it had no choice; each contraction a struggle.
"She's going tachy again," the blonde announced eagerly, eyeing the monitor. They could all see Janine's glistening brown chest jerking with the force. Janine's heart stopped for a full second before exploding back into motion. As its rate dipped to 180, Dr. Ena immediately followed with dobutamine, keeping the organ in a state of extreme tension.
The shamans had both moved to the edge of the ritual circle, where Janine had crashed through. They knelt, examining the broken pattern drawn in salt and ash and things less easily identified. The younger shaman traced the air above the disrupted lines, her scarred face growing increasingly grave.
"The breach is worse than we thought," she said. "When she fell through, her body didn't just break the physical circle."
The dark elder shaman stood slowly. "We've been trying to reinforce a structure that no longer exists.” Janine was recovering as they changed focus, but the news didn't help her case at all.
"It can't be repaired?" The doctor's voice went very quiet. Dangerously quiet.
"No. We'll need to evacuate, establish a new containment at least fifty miles from-"
Ena moved fast. Her hands wrapped around Janine's throat, squeezing with all the frustrated rage of their failed purpose. Janine's eyes bulged, her bound hands straining against the restraints. Her veins tense beneath the constricting fingers.
"You ruined everything!" The doctor's face twisted with fury, her grip tightening as the woman squirmed pathetically. "A thousand years of preparation, and you..."
"Stop!" The other doctor grabbed her colleague's wrists. "You're wasting her! This requires invasive punishment!"
The small medical team converged in the distance. The smaller pallid shaman approached and ran her hands over Janine’s toned abdomen with an out-of-place sensual reverence. Despite being the leaders in this ritual, the two shamans didn’t have the visceral anger that the others did. The calmness felt insincere. They seemed more frustrated than anything.
Without a word, the pale woman swung a leg over Janine's restrained form, straddling her. The robe parted like a curtain, revealing the shaman's bare thighs pressing against Janine's dark olive hips.
"Such a waste," the woman said. Fingers trailed up Janine's sides, tracing the curve of her ribs where the gel smeared under the touch. She encircled those ribs, feeling the way Janine's lungs expanded and contracted in panicked gulps.
"Look at how cute she is. She'd make a delightful pet, don't you think? We could still train her." the fair woman said.
The darker shaman leaned in. "But the doctors... they're too invested. We'd risk everything if we tried to change things."
Janine's mind reeled, desperation crashing through her. She wanted to scream, to plead, but the gag turned her words into muffled gurgles. She bucked her hips slightly, not in resistance but in a futile attempt to communicate, her body arching under the woman's weight.
The pale woman's face lit up from the squirms, but ignored their intent. She slid her hands beneath those ribs, cradling Janine's chest. A single lingering kiss just below the sternum expresses the woman's regret. Her head turned to the side planted there, listening.
"What a pitiful thing," she said, savoring the vibrant panic trapped in Janine's chest and in every inch of her body.
"They're coming back." the taller one said. Despite the warning, the woman's head pressed deeper into Janine's frame, as if to savor the response from those words. After precious seconds pass, she dismounts though, straightening her robes for their arrival.
The blonde woman with the thick glasses who'd earlier palpated Janine so eagerly wheeled over a new cart. It gleamed under the fluorescent lights, laden with sterile packages that crinkled as she tore them open. "I need to intubate her."
The shaman stepped in and removed the cloth, then untied the gag. Janine spent her short and sweet moment of freedom catching her breath. Finally, she could speak, put an end to this charade, but a mask descended over her face first, muffling her screams amid the hiss of oxygen.
They tilted her head back until her delicate throat lay exposed. Her eyes couldn't see who did what anymore. The laryngoscope forced its way between her lips, prying her jaw open wider than felt possible. Janine gagged, her tongue pressing uselessly against the intrusion.
The tube followed, slithering down her throat. Janine felt every inch of it, the way it bullied past her vocal folds. Her body rebelled, chest bucking as she tried to cough, but the restraints held her firm. The tube advanced relentlessly.
Now her breaths were mechanical, forced by the ventilator they hooked up. It pushed air into her lungs in rhythmic whooshes. Each inflation stretched her chest from within, her ribs expanding against their will. The sensation was alien and dehumanizing.
"Sedation now," Dr. Ena ordered, her voice cutting through the ventilator's steady hiss. A syringe appeared in her hand, the needle glinting like a promise of oblivion. Janine watched in helpless horror as it pierced the IV line already snaking into her arm. The plunger depressed slowly, the clear fluid vanishing into her vein. Warmth spread from the site, an insidious creep that dulled the edges of her panic. Her eyelids grew heavy, the room blurring at the periphery.
Janine's eyes fluttered open. The ventilator still hummed, forcing air into her intubated throat, but now there was a new horror: a gaping void in her chest. Her sternum had been split, ribs pried apart. Retractors held the cavity open,
The first to reach in was the blonde nurse, her eyes alight with fascination behind her glasses. She slipped her hand into the cavity. Her fingers brushed the pericardium before cutting and tearing it open. With a gentle rip, warm, clear fluid spilled out, and then her palm cupped the heart itself.
She reached in first, the team acting as if this was a gift to her. her latex-clad fingers brushing the heart's surface. Janine felt a foreign touch on the most intimate part of her, sending jolts through her body. The heart recoiled instinctively, skipping a beat, its surface dimpling under the pressure.
The nurse didn't hesitate. She cupped the organ fully, her hand enveloping the beating mass. Janine's world exploded in new sensation: The warmth of the glove contrasting the cool air, the gentle at first squeeze that compressed the ventricles mid-contraction. The pink meat bulged between the woman's fingers, arteries swelling with trapped blood. The organ jerked angrily in her grasp.
"Cute how it squirms," the nurse cooed, treating it like a stress ball in her palm. She kneaded gently, fingers digging into the surface.
The nurse released slightly, only to compress again. Over and again, she rolled the heart between her thumb and fingers. As she squeezed, the organ bulged where her grip was tightest. Janine didn't want to give them more amusement, but her body wouldn't stop writhing on display.
The pink tissue paled under the force before flushing deeper red as blood rushed back. Janine could only watch as her heart was manipulated by this eager woman. It clenched unnaturally hard in defeated protest. Each squeeze sent waves of dizziness through her brain, her vision spotting from the irregular flow.
After what felt like an eternity of this intimate torment, the nurse withdrew, her gloves slick with pericardial fluid. "“It’s so angry. So full of fury!. Your turn," she said to the doctor, the one with the full face covering, who seemed most prepared for this moment.
This doctor wasted no time. She grabbed the defibrillator paddles.
"Let's see how it handles direct current," she said, positioning the paddles on either side of the exposed heart. Janine felt the chill of metal against muscle, the paddles encompassing the organ like jaws. The doctor pressed them together, mashing the heart between them, the dark pink flesh compressing flat, ventricles squished until they could barely twitch.
The heart bulged at the edges, arteries distending as blood pooled. It jerked weakly, trying to beat against the vice, each attempt a feeble quiver that vibrated the paddles. "Charging to 50 joules," the doctor announced, the machine whining as it built power. The shock fired directly into the muscle. It made the organ seize, every fiber contracting at once in a violent spasm. Janine felt it as pure impact, her entire being centered on the heart's agony, the current ripping through chambers and walls.
But she didn't stop. "Again, 100 joules." Another mash. The shock hit, forcing submission. It quivered in fibrillation, no organized beats left. The doctor murmured, shocking a third time at 150.
Satisfied with the chaos, she set the paddles aside and removed her gloves. Her hand smacked the heart lightly at first, the impact sending ripples through the tissue and a jolt through Janine's helpless body. The organ jiggled under her palm, the quivering mass wobbling as she prodded it back to life. "Pump for me," she demanded, smacking harder, the sound wet and echoing. Each slap forced a contraction, the organ responding with desperate pumps, arteries swelling as blood finally surged.
She jiggled it between her fingers, shaking the heart like a toy, feeling the internal chambers slosh with fluid. The muscle trembled, trying to find rhythm amid the abuse. Janine felt the humiliation of it, how her heart danced to this woman's whims, pumping erratically. The doctor continued until the organ steadied, beating stronger and faster than ever. Adrenaline surged through it in useless effort to mount a fight or flight response.
Now it was Dr. Ena's turn. The lead doctor approached with deliberate grace, her eyes locked on the throbbing prize. She cradled the heart gently at first, her hands cupping it like a fragile artifact, fingers tracing the coronary grooves. "Such a fighter," she whispered, feeling the hard, aggressive thump against her palms. The organ nestled there, beating trustingly, each contraction a violent fit.
But tenderness was fleeting. Ena’s thumb and forefinger found the aorta—the great vessel emerging from the left ventricle, thick and elastic. She pinched it slowly, constricting the flow. The heart swelled immediately, blood backing up in the chambers, the pink muscle ballooning larger with each trapped beat. Arteries engorged, bulging like overfilled hoses, the organ straining against the blockage.
Dizziness swept Janine's mind. Her limbs tingled from the reduced output, but she remained conscious, feeling the pressure build in her chest. The heart jerked harder, trying to force blood past the pinch.
"Beg for it," Dr. Ena demanded, her voice low and commanding. "Beg for your own blood flow, Janine."
Through the tube in her throat, Janine could only manage strained huffs. Her eyes pleaded as the heart bulged in the doctor's hand. The organ throbbed with increasing frenzy and decreasing movement, chambers distended. The sensation of fullness overwhelming, like a balloon ready to burst. The heart's surface grew prominently vascular, pink turning to deep red from the strain.
The light faded behind Janine's eyes, and though her consciousness was fading, she could hear a faint whisper.
"Let go, the shamans want justice too."
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