Chopping Through Tavistock’s House of Horrors
1 Articles
1 Articles
Chopping Through Tavistock’s House of Horrors
I wake up on a cold steel table with a colorless, artificial fluorescent light numbing my face. Despite my aching head and limp body, I can see pink-haired Dr. Paula sharpening a large machete in the distance. I try to pull my arms up, but I’m strapped down. I look toward the viewing gallery, which is packed with drag queens and wig-clad doctors who look just like my medical captor. One fruitcake in the peanut gallery holds a placard that reads …
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