I felt the sharp blade burn into my back, just below my shoulder blade. There would be blood covering my entire torso if the knife that pierced my skin wasn’t heated to such a degree that it burned the wound over as it cut. Although the knife did stop most of the bleeding, I still felt the hot liquid run from a fresh cut.

The pain was overwhelming. I couldn’t stop my body from shaking and twisting in an attempt of escape, but there was no chance at that plan. The ropes tied around my wrists and ankles kept me from moving.

My throat was raw from screaming, but no matter how much it hurt, my body still released the horrifying sounds. I could almost hear my voice echo off the stone walls. The only relief I got what when my father, the man who was cutting hieroglyphics into my back, left to reheat the blade.

It was complete torture, but in all honestly, I’ve been in complete torture since I could remember. Sure, I’ve had some good times but my life has been filled with only three things: rules, hatred, and loneliness.

My body went limp as soon as he left to heat the knife. My muscles were sore and my head felt as if my heart had traveled to my brain and started beating against my skull. I would much rather be mummified alive than go through the ritual again.

You see, when your mummified, you get your brain mixed into a stew and it gets pulled out of your nostril. It’s a quick death to be killed in such a way. It may not be the most satisfying thing to experience while your brain is turning to goo but after the fact, you can be at peace, knowing that you’ll be judged and ride Ra’s boat.

This ritual was made for a pharaoh who no longer exists but will. There’s no purpose in destroying your back for a dead pharaoh whom I will most likely never meet.

He returned and I almost screamed just by the knowledge of the pain. The pain that no ten-year-old should have to bare. No one of any age should be forced to get an ancient prophecy carved onto his back.

I felt the pain again and everything continued as it was before. I screamed in pain as my father continued to carve the shapes. The blood flowed and I could smell my own skin burn.

The only thing keeping me from fainting was the constant pain. The short breaks to let the fresh scars burn gave no hope for me. I was tied to a stone table and was getting cut into by the one who helped bring me into this world. The same person that once praised my existence now threatens to take it away.

His knife moved to the most sensitive part of my back and then dug into the gap between my bones. I could no longer hear my own scream. My eyes had been clamped shut for the whole ritual and I never intended to open them again. My body stopped shaking all at once and the world grew dark. Darker and darker until all I could see was a sheet of black.