She started with her face. That’s where she felt it most. Well, maybe, but it was too risky to cut into her chest.
The cage would sit an inch behind her skin like an internal cast.
The cage was meant to hold back the pressure. She couldn’t take any more of the pressure. Desire would slam into the inside of her skull and give her headaches. All of her blood would rush to the front of her body, driving her forward in a horizontal free fall toward god knows what. It had to stop.
She had tried giving into desire, obtaining what it wanted (when she knew what it wanted) but that only awoke stronger desires. Worse headaches.
Now, on the brink of insanity, she was cutting into her face. Building a cage to keep tomorrow at bay. Goals, worries, wants, all of it, quiet and contained an inch below the surface.
It would be painful. But if it worked. It would be worth it.
She couldn’t take any more of the pressure.