My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 485

Chapter 485

“This is called localized deep-tissue nerve stimulation,” Doctor Vance murmured, his breath hot against my cheek as he leaned over me. He picked up the heavy silver tool. The tip wasn’t sharp enough to stab like a knife, but it was narrow, hard, and blunt, designed to apply an immense amount of pressure to a single, tiny point, When the brain refuses to process visual symbols correctly, we must create a counter-signal so intense that the neural pathways are forced to reset.”

He didn’t wait. He didn’t give me a second to brace myself.

He brought the heavy metal tip down right onto the sensitive, soft skin directly beneath my thumbnail. And then, with all his weight, he pressed down.

A sound tore out of my throat that didn’t even sound human.

It wasn’t a normal pain. It was a blinding, white-hot explosion that shot straight up my arm and directly into the center of my skull.

The blunt metal tip pushed deep into the flesh, crushing the thousands of tiny nerve endings packed under the nail. I felt the skin split. I felt the hot, wet rush of blood immediately starting to pool around his fingers, staining

the silver instrument.

“Keep your head straight, Gianna,” Doctor Vance hissed, his face turning red as he pressed even harder, leaning his entire upper body weight onto the tool.

“Stop! Please, stop!” I shrieked, my legs thrashing wildly against the chair, my spine arching so hard I thought it would snap. The room began to spin. The white light above me blurred into a long, streaky mess.

The pain was so absolute, so vast, that it swallowed every other thought in my head. I couldn’t remember my name. I couldn’t remember my mother’s face. I couldn’t remember Chicago. There was nothing in the entire universe except the feeling of my flesh being ground against the bone of my finger.

I was entirely gone, floating somewhere outside of my own body, watching a girl with my face scream and bleed in a sterile white room.

My lungs caught, and I let out a loud, ragged sob that shook my entire chest. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The only thing that existed was the heavy silver tool digging into the center of my hand, grinding against the bone.

With a desperate surge of strength, I began to thrash. I yanked my pinned wrists against the leather straps, pulling so hard the rough material scraped the skin off my arms. My legs kicked out, my boots slamming violently against the metal base of the chair, making a loud noise that echoed off the white walls. I was throwing my weight left and right, trying to twist away from his hand, trying to save myself.

“Hold still, you stubborn little bitch,” Doctor Vance whispered.

He leaned over me, his face completely red, his breath smelling like mints. He tried to press the tool deeper into my bleeding palm, but my moving body made his hand slip. The silver tip dragged across my skin, slicing oper another red line.

He let out an angry curse. Before I could even blink, he lifted his hand and slapped me across the face like he had done a hundred of times when I was being difficult.