How Sweet It Is, by Roshanna Sidney Evans

I loved it when they cut my skin. I loved it when the chip slid in.
I knew I’d never be the same. That’s what I wanted, to give someone else complete control, to be able to blame them when I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw.
I loved it when they sewed me up. I loved the sound of of the thread stitching me up. Cute little pat, pat, pat. Standard smile. Standard words. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I smiled. “Easy as pie.”
“Happy?”
“Couldn’t be happier.”
I love being out of control.

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