There are marionette strings sewed into nine places: to each leg, hand, shoulder, and ear, and at the base of my spine. I’m completely and utterly entangled. Each tug of the strings tears at my flesh and nerves. I’m in agony, each wave of pain leaving me more helpless. My cries for the torment to end fall on deaf ears. I try to fake a better feeling by clinging to a fantasy that offers a brief escape.