I stepped back from the table. It dripped in unison with my foot falls. Men in white coveralls, hoods over their faces, came in and removed what was on the table.

                It made a sickening sound as it plopped on the cart. They wheeled it out of the room. One wheel was slightly wobbly and squeaked rhythmically.

                Tears flowed down my cheeks. I tried to sniff them back, but made them leak more.  My nose started to run so I dragged my hand across my nostrils. Snot mixed with what was on my forearm.

                “I can’t keep this up!” I screamed at the one-way mirror.

                They could see me, but I couldn’t see them.

                A voice crackled on an intercom, it was muffled and almost incoherent, but I could understand the voice.

                “The next one is on its way.”

                I threw the tools they gave me on the ground in defiance. They splashed in the puddle at my feet.

                The intercom stayed silent, but the dark glass glared back at me, threatening me to continue.

                I have a choice, but I have to do it.

                They had my family. They showed me pictures of them gagged and with long knives across their throats. They knew that I would do anything for them… but was this too much?

                The metronomic squeak of the cart’s wheel alerted me it was coming back.

                What I was going to have to do came rushing back. I closed my eyes, hard enough to give myself a migraine and salty tears squeezed out.

                I could hear the door to the room open. I could not escape. There was no door handle for me to even try. They would let me leave... when they said I could leave.

                I could hear the men, in white coveralls, shuffle into the room and heave something onto the steel table in front of me. I shuddered knowing what it was.

                I heard it whine on the table.

                The voice startled me as it spoke through the intercom.

                “Finish it and we can continue to save your family.”

                “I can’t…. I can’t… I can’t…” I said breathing like I had run a marathon.

                “If you don’t, your family will be finished instead.”

                I fell to my knees. I could feel the warm liquid seeping through the clothes they gave me. I opened my eyes and searched for the tools they had given me.

                One sat shimmering in a puddle of mixed liquids. I reached out and took it, the red dripped off and splashed into the puddle.

                I slowly began to stand and heard the whimper from the table. I looked down and cried as I edged the surgical knife toward the old dog on the table.

                The voice spoke from the intercom again as I made the first cut, “Finish it and we can continue to save your family.”