[ WP ] You get a deep cut for the first time in your life , instead of bone or muscle , you see wires .

`` Wires?'' I thought aloud, although in a hushed tones between shallow gasps. I still did n't handle blood well but the shock of seeing... wires deep under my skin kept me grudgingly lucid. 
 
 The cut was on the top of my hand, a couple inches below my two leftmost knuckles. Wires, that word filled my mind quicker than any every had. A seed really, sprouting questions whose fruits were doubt, filling up my still cloudy mind. The outrageous and the impossible are present even among the most rationale people. The next few minutes saw me doubting myself as either of those things. 
 
 Of one of those two things I was wrong to doubt. 
 
 One wire protruded significantly more than the rest, drooping and surprisingly spindly. At this point the word `` wire'' flowed freely as if I had already accepted it. I gently touched the end, apprehensive but of what? Pain? An electrical shock? More likely it was the admission somewhere just under my conscious surface that I had accepted suck a ridiculous idea. 
 
 I pulled at the the wire, it stretched slightly but moved no more than that. The pain was excruciating. 
 
 I was not human. it was a ridiculous thought but in the few minutes I sat there feeling the pain run up my arm in a single pulsing surge it actually comforted me. It all made sense now, why I could n't laugh and experience joy as sincerely as everyone else. It was n't my fault. 
 
 I pulled harder and pieces fell off onto the floor beside me. Something shifted and I could feel my arm lose its grip on this secret that I had every right to know. God the pain was intense! But it was n't going to stop me. I needed more proof, more justification that all those little things which plagued me for years finally had an explanation. I knew I was a little weird, a little anti-social. The only empathy I've ever displayed has been fake, I always knew that. But I'm not even human? 
 
 Fuck they did n't hold back on pain capacity. What a waste. Me an Android. A pathetic mess, no ambition or purpose. Why make something like that, like me, if their life was meaningless? 
 
 I stopped pulling. I had ripped out all I could from that arm. I took the knife that had slipped trying to open that ridiculously strong plastic package. Knocked the package to floor and sat down on couch. 
 
 I could feel them in my face. When I pushed to the right of my nose I COULD FEEL THEM. They need to get out i need to know where they are, how they work. I clenched my eyes shut as hard as I was able and felt the drip of warm blood on my fingers before I had even known the knife sliced into my skin. 
 
 THERE! I found the first end and pulled, gently at first. It was very small, almost delicate. It broke off. 
 
 ANOTHER. There were so many more in my face than my arm. My body must be covered in them. Before long piles of shredded and broken wires laid around me. My eyes were filling with blood, touch became the only sense I cared about. Feeling my skin, dragging my fingers across my open flesh searching for more and more wires. 
 
 Pain meant nothing anymore. What is pain to an android, a robot? 
 
 I am sure I was unrecognizable. It occurred to me that even androids must rely on blood... or whatever this fucking liquid that filled my vision was. How many wires have i pulled out now? How much robot is left, how much human? Or no... I was never human I knew that now. There was never any to be left. 
 
 I won. I can feel myself starting to shut down. What's the difference between this and turning off a TV. I was happy. I finally made sense of it all. I dropped the knife and could see parts of my ceiling through the blood caked onto my eyes. 
 
 I just wanted them out. 
 
 
 *** 
 
 
 She knew her son had been depressed lately, she could tell on the phone that something was wrong. After 2 days of not answering his phone she could n't help but driving to his apartment after work that day. There probably is n't anything wrong but even being turned away instantly would be fine as long as she knew. 
 
 It smelled. Worse than it usually did. It was disgusting. 
 
 The knocks gave no more response than the calls did the last 2 days. Even as she called the cops she did n't panic, she thought it's just a precaution. 
 
 The cops arrived in 30 minutes, not as quick as she wanted it, especially because of that awful smell and that strange buzz. Her son lived alone on the bottom of a this sort of duplex. It was a converted town house split in the middle. No one lived above him. 
 
 The cops knocked but expecting no reply did not wait long to bust the lock. The buzzing instantly got louder. 
 
 She had been smelling the effects of her son decomposing for the three days. None of the 4 people in her son's room had ever seen something so disturbing. Her son was covered in blood and had deep gashes all over his body. The worst was his face. She recognized his clothes. Small very fragile looking stands of... something lay around her son and have dropped onto the floor. It was murder, it had to be murder. 
 
 The medical examiner met with her the next day and asked questions about her son's mental health. Sher knew what was coming next. It was ruled a suicide, cause of death was blood loss. His death was not quick, it was not painless. 
 
 He had ripped out the nerves all over his body. Her son had grabbed the nerve endings just beneath his skin and carefully pulled, never by nerve. She was told the pain must have been immense and they had no explanation besides severe schizophrenia. 
 

