She always carried a kitbag with her. Safety first. She grimaced as her left shoulder ached with excruciating pain. She was driving with her right hand on the steering. She loudly cried, hoping to feel relieved. Yes, she felt a bit relieved for a few seconds; but again the pain surmounted her. This time she could not hold it anymore. She stopped the car as the road was deserted. Her unwounded hand rummaged the glove compartment. She found the kitbag. Put off the jacket she was wearing – undressing for dressing. Switched on the car-inside light. No one will pass this damn road to notice me in this cloudy evening. She produced a lighter and an eyebrow-pincher from the kitbag. She lit the lighter and set the pointed edges of the pincher on it. Then she slid her sleeveless tee-shirt to reveal the bare and bloody shoulder. She was lucky the bullet did not pierce through her bones; but the bullet was still inside her body. She could now see a crimson circle surrounded by splattered red blood. She fought back a temptation to play her finger around the crimson circle. This will be dangerous – septic. Then she got an iron plate from under her car seat – put it safely inside a polythene bag and put the plate into her mouth. She told herself: I don't want to shriek and wake up the whole forest. It will be all right dear. This is the best you can do. This is the best you can afford. This is the best. This is the best. Then she pierced the pincher into her flesh. Aargh: her inside was shrieking as if capable of blasting the dome of the earth – the sky. But to the outside it came out as a mere muffled bleat. It was hard to locate the bullet by the pointed pincher. Every time she pierced the pincher it posited few degrees away from the bullet. She got the pincher out. I can not do it anymore. No. No. I can not do it anymore. She started moaning – muttering gibberish as if delusional. I should. No. No. – I must. – Why? – Why? – Be careful. – Best. Best. Best. This is…then she gathered herself. Mustered her strength. Amazed by her brain's tolerance capacity. She pierced the pincher again to her flesh. This time it was almost the exact place. Just had to adjust a few degrees – it was painful. But it is ok. It will be done. It will be over. Auto suggestion. Yes, it is working. It is working. It will be fine. It will be over soon. Then she got the pincher out. With it was the little iron bullet. She put the bullet on the adjacent seat.