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MAG 182 - Wellbeing

The Magnus Archives

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Renee's Story

Renee would be strapped down tighter to her chair and wheeled into the lift that smelled like ammonia and rot. Sometimes there was enough anesthetic to lock her limbs in place, other times they simply let her thrash. When the diagnosis had been skinned they had peeled her piece by piece before they painted the inside of it with something dark and sticky then sewed it back on. All through she could do nothing but watch as they cut and swapped and conjectured her body unable to speak to move to do anything but watch these anonymous things play with everything she was.

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