Pant... Pant... Done!

It's officially January 31st here, and I finished my book!

It was a struggle, I tell you.  Finding an ending that worked for this story had me pacing the halls and ripping large quantities of hair from my head.  I usually write the ending of a book early on so I have something to aim for throughout the writing process.  But I didn't do that this time, so I wound up without an end point.

But after much angsting and procrastination, I came up with something.  I'm not entirely happy with it, but it's a first draft and I'm sure the perfect ending will come once I've been through all the revision I need to do.

So, as promised, here's a small snippet from Ozzy (I have to find a title soon)....

When I wake up, it’s to pain.  A lot of pain.  Huge, overwhelming, all-consuming pain.  I’m in Hell with all the flames and demons with sharp, jabbing pitchforks.  The Catholics were right.  Suicide is a mortal sin.  And because I wanted to escape my stupid mangled body and pathetic broken heart, I’m damned to this torture for all eternity.  What irony.  I kind of wish I’d bothered with religion now.  If I had, I might be able to figure out a way out of this.

I ease my eyes open, expecting to see a sea of fire and brimstone.  Instead I find myself looking at the same sterile white room, beeping monitors and dangling tubes.  I chuckle even though the pain in my legs is unbearable.  Guess this is Satan’s joke on me.  My Hell is where I wake up each day to find my legs chopped off, I’m in agony and there are no painkillers.  That dude has a twisted sense of humor.  

I thumb the button which is still within reach.  Nothing.  Figures.  It wouldn’t be Hell if there were narcotics readily available.  But seriously?  I press the button again.  Still nothing.  Fuck.  I hurt.  I hurt a lot.  Too much.  I can’t stand it.  It hurts all the way down to my ankles and toes.  But do I even have these things in Hell?

I struggle to sit up further.  The bed’s still raised, but I’ve slid down it.  The pillows that are supposed to be elevating my stumps are crumpled somewhere under my lower back.  And I can’t drag myself back up.  My legs hurt too much.  No, not just my legs.  Everything.  My entire body - corpse? - is a seething mass of pain.  It’s like someone’s stripped a few layers of skin off me and left my nerve endings raw and exposed.

A strange whimpering sound fills my ears.  It’s high-pitched and painful to listen to, like a small animal dying a slow and agonizing death.  They grow in volume until they’re so loud I have to cover my ears with my hands.  It’s only then that I realize the sounds are coming from me.

What do you think???