The third doctor offered to split me open himself.

His hair was slicked back with gel. He was clean shaven with pouted, confident lips. He told me the only way he could find out the real cause of my pain was with a knife and sutures. You sat next to me this time. You held my hand, drew familiar lines in my palm with your finger.

“I am the best doctor you could find,” he crooned.  “I will explore your insides and give you the answers you’ve sought your entire life.”