she screams "SILENCE DOES NOT EXIST" at the top of her lungs but there's no one around to hear her

her brain pounds against her skull and she can hear the sound of drilling through bone she can smell the sweet stench of human bone meal she can taste the oozing sawdust textured drips of her own blood and she can see the back of her eyelids, tinged with red from the florescent lights  of the hospital room as her fingers twist in the thin coarse blankets she tugs at so desperately writhing in the cot they've graciously provided her with if only to remove her stillbeating organs with the promise of a cure

she screams "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME" at the top of her lungs but there's no one around to hear her