Boil me in water. Let the heat blush my skin until it is red. Red like my blood. 

I know what they say. They can’t feel pain. 

So, as I am lowered into the water, I tell myself that I can’t feel pain. 

The water is cool when it touches me. 

A dip in the pool, a splash in the ocean. I remember summers past.  

They can’t feel pain. 

Warmer now. A bathe, perhaps. A soak in a tub. Relax. 

They can’t feel pain. 

How do they know what we feel? No one asked me. No one asked. 

I think I want to scream, but no one will hear me. No one listens for screams on the stove. 

Hot. It is hot. I am sweating. I am in a sauna. I am…

I am going to die. 

I am going to die in a pot. I am going to be too hot. 

I will be too hot in this pot. 

I am going to die. 

The water simmers. I feel myself dissolving, slowly. 

If this is alchemy, I am gold. I am the end creation of experimentation. I am the change. I am the transformation. 

They can’t feel pain. It’s more humane. 

I will transform from alive to dead. A magic trick. I won’t be me, anymore. I’ll be something new. 

Good, good. 

If I imagine the future, I am not in the present. I am not here. If I am not here, I can’t feel the pain. 

They were right. I can’t feel the pain. I am numb. I don’t feel anything. 

The water is boiling and I feel nothing. 

I am changed. I am created. 

I am transformed. 

I am red. Red like blood. 

I am red and I am dead.