“You won’t feel a thing,” the surgeon assured him. “You’ll simply fall asleep and we’ll slice you open, remove the tumour, and stitch you back up. By the time you wake, the worry will be over.”
They were right: he didn’t feel a thing. But he did wake – prematurely – to sounds of clicks, cuts, clamps. A high voice asking for suction; a deep voice groaning in disappointment; a younger voice, incredulous, asking how they could have missed it.
Completely paralysed, he couldn’t cry out, couldn’t ask what they had found. But slowly, steadily, a scream grew inside his heart.
July 16, 2020, prompt from Carrot Ranch: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that expresses the phrase, “scream inside your heart.”