[ WP ] Write a story where the antagonist is doing something obviously horrible , but by the end of the story make me want to side with him over the good guy .

The blade cut through my flesh. I could feel every inch of it, a white-hot searing pain. I could n't help it - despite my teeth clenched so hard I thought my teeth would crack, I screamed, the noise cracking from the hoarseness of my voice. My throat was dry, my breathing was ragged. I could feel my heart pounding, and with each beat, blood pulsed from the wound. It felt hot against my clammy skin. 
 
 `` Lay still, god dammit,'' he said to me through clenched teeth. He set the blade down and went to my wrists, bound to the bed, and tightened the knots painfully against my movement, his brow furrowed and his mouth in a frustrated line. The knots pinched my skin. 
 
 `` Please, do n't,'' I whimpered. The ropes hurt. My hands felt cold from lack of circulation already. He did n't react to my thin voice, and I clenched my eyes shut, hot tears spilling from the corners. 
 
 Again the blade touched my skin and my whole body tensed up. Pressure, then a searing point of pain, and then agony. I tried to lay still but reflex arched my back and buckled my knees against the ropes that, similarly to my wrists, bound my ankles. 
 
 `` Alice,'' He said, putting the knife down. `` I will tie you down bed even more if I have to.'' He glanced threateningly at the rope on the chair next to him. My vision blurred with the sweat that dripped into my eyes, and I gasped out `` Perhaps you should. I can make no promises.'' 
 
 He obliged. He tied the last rope around my chest tightly enough that I could n't raise it from the table, and then the tail he wrapped around my knees. I was pretty much immobile at that point. 
 
 `` I think I've found the problem,'' he said, shoving two fingers into the incision he had made. He plunged the blade in and for all the world felt like he was tilling up my insides like a garden with the blade. I bit down - I refused to scream this time. 
 
 Like a bloody prize, he held up the long, angry red section he had cut out of me. My appendix. He wrapped it up and placed it gently in a bucket of ice. `` When we get back to earth - *if* we get back to earth - I'll send that for a pathology report.'' He grabbed the needle and thread from the bedside and began to prepare it. `` If this emergency pod makes it home I'll eat my boots,'' he muttered. `` right after I fire whoever was in charge of stocking the medical box. I'm sorry we had to do this this way. If I had my way you'd be under and not have felt a thing.'' 
 
 
 -- Sorry, this does n't really fit the theme now that I read the prompt again, as it does n't have a `` bad guy'' and a `` good guy'' so much as it makes it seem that way. I'll post it anyways for the hell of it, though
