The nastiest scars.  
--------------------

It's this time of the day again. I am sitting in my wheelchair, completely immobile, and the lights in my room go off.

The door opens, and through the blinding light emanating through the doorway I can discern three shapes. three men.

They are coming for me.

Again.

I cannot move, not out of fear or paralysis, I have neither. The fear has left my mind years ago when I accepted my fate.

they grab me, and drag me by the collar to the dentist chair where I am strapped until I cannot move, not that I would try to escape. the pain is always worse when I try to escape. 

They grab their knives, scalpels and other pointy-shaped and cutting tools, and they start slicing through my chest and my belly, as usual. they avoid each and every arteries to keep me alive. they want to turn me into their toy, not to waste me away like some used tissue. The pain is unbearable, it never gets any easier even after so many times getting the same thing done to me. I know what's next, after they are done cutting up my torso, they move to the extremities. somehow, they manage not to cut up the arteries and veins on my neck, legs and arms even though the cuts are very deep. all the while, my bones are being broken, my tendons are being severed and my muscles are being ripped apart by one of them, who has amongst his tools a high-pressure automatic hammer. precise, powerful and horribly painful.

When they are done, they drag me back to my room, and shove me back on my chair.

As the door closes, the lights get back on, and I am sitting on my wheelchair, the scars on the entirety of my body memories of what lasted a week, and which I relive every day since the past few decades.

And I sit on my wheelchair, motionless, contemplating the day when I will choke on my own drool and maybe finally die and forget all that's happened to you.

So, I ask you: what are the nastiest scars, the physical ones or those in your head?