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Phobia pt. 1
I wake up slowly. I don’t jerk awake. I don’t gain consciousness easily. My mind is aware, but my body doesn’t seem to want to respond. My mind feels groggy, but it’s awake. Do I have my eyes open? I can’t know for sure, but something tells me I don’t. Something tells me I can’t. I try to open them, but they are too heavy.
Suddenly I see the orange light you see when a flashlight is shone over your closed eyelids. Someone has turned on a light. But who? Who is in my house? What is going on? My brain is bombarded with questions I cannot answer for myself.
My skin feels funny. No, not my skin. Something on it. Around it. My sheets? It flows around me like my sheets. No—it can’t be my sheets. My arms. Why do my arms feel so tired? I’m not in pain. I’m exhausted, but not in pain. What’s wrong with my arms?
What’s this? I can hear my own breathing, but the sound doesn’t feel right. But wait—it’s the only sound I hear. It’s muffled. Where am I? Why can’t I wake up? Have I been drugged? Too many questions.
“Open your eyes, Tawny,” I will myself silently. “Open them. Open them! OPEN YOUR EYES!”
I open my eyes and immediately wish I’d stayed in the dark. Trapped—I’m trapped in my own worst fear. I can’t breathe; claustrophobia sweeps over me and takes over my senses. What senses? None of them seem to be working.
Water. Water everywhere. No air. How am I breathing? I look down; it’s difficult. My neck is so stiff. My whole body is stiff. What’s wrong with my body?
An oxygen mask. That’s how I’m breathing. I know that now. I’m wearing an oxygen mask attached to a small can of air. The cans they use in scuba diving. The emergency ones. But why?
Where am I? Focus.
"Focus, Tawny.”
I’m no where. White room. Huge, huge empty room. Fluorescent lights. Too bright, it hurts my eyes. Glass box. Claustrophobia. There’s water all around me, filling the box. It’s cold.
Why did they put me in here? Why? Why did they give me an air mask? Why are they doing this? WHO ARE THEY!
It’s almost empty. I’m almost out of air. I still don’t know what’s wrong with my arms. I look up. Handcuffs. I’m handcuffed to the top of the box. Panic. The box seems to get smaller and smaller. My air is running out. Panic. Don’t panic. Stay calm.
I look down. Naked. My feet are shackled to the bottom. One leg, crossed over the other, as my hands are also fastened to the top. Stay calm.
“Bullshit!” I scream inside my head. “Bullshit if I’ll stay calm!”
My air is gone. I have four minutes to survive with aching lungs before I pass out. I wish God would have mercy and allow me to find comfort in the unconsciousness now. I wish God would allow me to die. Now. I don’t want to drown. I just want to die.
Why can’t I just DIE?
I sob as best I can in the water with no air to spare. I pray. I haven’t prayed in ages. But I pray now.
“I’m dying,” I think. “I’m actually dying.”
Movement. I catch movement through the confusing haze of the water and glass. A door opens. A dark figure steps through it. Panic. He approaches the glass. He’s hooded. I can only see his mouth. He can see me, though. Of that, I’m sure. Because just as the panic reaches my eyes, his thin lips turn up at the edges. He smiles. I try my best to hold in a gag.
He watches me for what seems like forever. But I know it cannot be long, or else I would already be dead. He lifts something; paper. A sign? He presses it against the glass. “FACE YOUR FEARS.” Then he pressed a button.
Click. My hands are free from the shackles. They squirm as if having a mind of their own. I open my mouth. The empty can falls. Click. My feet are let loose. I squirm. My whole body squirms. How long have I been in this watery hell?
I look at him. Who are you?! I ask with my eyes. He smiles another sick smile and pushes another button. Crack. The chain holding the glass cage three feet above the ground suddenly detaches itself. Down, down, down. It dawns on me that the glass is about to hit concrete. Crash.
The glass explodes around me. Water everywhere. I hit the cold concrete with a painful thud. Broken glass cuts into me. I fight for air. Gasp. Shiver. Gasp. I hear a low, slow laugh and look up at the devil himself. I am overcome with rage; no longer afraid.
“WHAT THE F*CK!” I scream at him, painfully gulping air into my broken lungs. The smile returns. “WHO THE F*CK ARE YOU!”
He doesn’t answer. His smile widens as he turns and walks towards a wall. He looks back at me and watches my eyes widen before turning off the lights. Panic. Where is he? What is he going to do? I can’t move. My limbs feel like rubber bands. The more I try to move, the more the glass cuts into me. I’m getting dizzy. Oh, God, please… Not now… I’m fading. Everything—Everything is—Blackness.
.To Be Continued.
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Posted by HugWhore33 on 2007-11-29 16:08:54 | Rating: | Views: 86
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Well, you have certainly gotton my attention now. This is really gripping you know. I'll be back for the continuation.
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Posted by Pauligan
on 2007-12-01 06:06:48
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Wow!
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Posted by SubTomato
on 2007-12-05 15:11:14
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whoa...that is some creepy stuff...can't wait for more!
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Posted by Rajah1116
on 2007-12-21 13:52:50
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