Click on image to enlarge.

	Regular				Club
You Pay:	$0.49				$0.42
Micropay Rebate:	50%				50%
Cost After Rebate:	$0.24				$0.21
You Save:	51.02%				57.14%

eBook Category: Horror
eBook Description: Dr. Polk knows how to get his patient, Brent, to overcome his fear of needles. By radical desensitization. It's a simple concept, really. All Brent has to do is lie down on a bed of nails....

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Needles and Sins, 1993
Fictionwise Release Date: August 2002

13 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [49 KB], eReader (PDB) [23 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [9 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [9 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [61 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [80 KB], hiebook (KML) [52 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [38 KB], iSilo (PDB) [8 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [10 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [38 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [16 KB]
Words: 2860
Reading time: 8-11 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Dr. Polk slowly creaked forward in his wooden office chair, the groan of old oak echoing in Brent's ears like the sudden snap of crisp wood bearing splinters. Brent winced, felt himself crawling deeper inside his own skin, withdrawing from its cheap fleshy fabric, retreating to the secret corner of his mind, his shell, an inner carapace of cement, where no point, no matter how sharp, could ever touch him. Like a concrete tortoise, he cowered from what was about to happen.

Polk pointed aimlessly in the air with the hatpin, punctuating his words in the space between them: "You must watch this, Brent. You must see. Keep those eyes open."

He obeyed, but only because he knew that the long pin might just jab him in the eyelids if he didn't. It might just slip right between the lip of his lids and force him to watch.

Dr. Polk was like that--always forcing him to confront his fears like rubbing a dog's nose in its own shit. No empathy at all.

Polk moved the tip of the pin towards the thin muscles and large veins on Brent's flexing forearm. His arm felt cold as dry ice from the alcohol rub. His fist was clenched in a forced handshake on Polk's free hand, arm-wrestling style. Brent pretended to watch the needle, staring at Polk's fist instead. It was hairy, white-knuckled as his own. But tougher, too. Thick as shoe leather.

"Are you watching?"

Brent wished he had another arm, one to yank the needle from Polk's fingers. Please don't ruin the only arm I have left, he thought, but did not speak the words, did not let Polk see the weakness inside.

"Yes, Doctor Polk. I'm watching everything."

In his peripheral vision, he saw the glint of thin cold silver as the needle moved closer to his skin. Slowly. Painfully. Polk couldn't have done it more cruelly.

Brent sucked in a lungful of air. Held it. He could taste Polk's cigar in his mouth, in his lungs. I'm gonna pop, he thought. I'm gonna burst like a hot air balloon and spray all over these ugly yellow walls.

The needle slipped into his arm, just above his wrist. It didn't hurt--it didn't make a sound. It just felt like the word itself: puncture .

And this time there was no blood.

The hypo almost sings as it streams through the air. Jabs into a bicep. Deep. He can hear the scrape of metal on bone, a shivering squeak like nails on chalkboard. Lifting the plunger, the syringe sucks and gargles loudly in his ears. The whole thing reminds him of plumbing, and he thinks about opened drains and leaky pipes. A woman's voice is saying THIS SHOULDN'T HURT A BIT, but he knows it will, and it DOES and he must get out of here, he's got to run and get out, so he moves. Just moves. And the needle goes SNAP.

It dangles from the arm and he stares, watching the red quickly trickle out from the jagged end like so many tears.

He watches, and someone's screaming, but it's not him. He's too busy wondering how long it takes for a person to become empty.

Polk raised a thick red eyebrow. "See, that didn't hurt at all, now did it?"

Brent watched from far behind his own eyes, seething, shouting from deep inside, but his voice was surprisingly only a weak grumble as it spilled from quivering lips. "Of course it hurt, asshole. You just shoved a friggin' needle into my arm."