I surrender.
I give up.
Complete blackness overwhelms the entirety of what I can see. A mumbled siren and distant screams slowly and slowly become clearer and clearer, until gradually, they turn into a sharp beep as I open my eyes, and in a snap, it's all silent now. No, no it's not. My breaths, they're louder than they've ever been. The sound of a ticking clock has never been so painful, so scorching. There are no colours. Everything is covered in ashes. There's a mirror in front of me, a little cracked from a corner. And there's me. I look...I look scared. Sweat drops run down my face every here and there, my clothes are all stained, but I can't feel it – I can't feel the sweat on my body. This bed? I jump on my feet. What? Is this...? The curtains on the window slowly ascend and descend in the air. But how can that be? The windows are closed. The fan above is still. I caress them, the curtains, but I can't feel their texture. I can't feel anything but hurt. And I feel a very, very cold air consistently passing right through me. Looking out through the greasy glass of the window, I see the sky. It's pitch black but the horizon is still the brightest silver. It's nightfall.
How lonely are the maroon window drapes.
Cold, the air that touches me.
The ceiling is crawling down and down.
I don't want it to stop.
I hope that it crushes me.
Out of the very thick and intense air in the locked room, a blaring crash smashes the grey pixel world I'm in. Agh! I scream, as I cover my ears, bow down on the ground and cry in agony. The sirens – Stop it! Stop them!
I can barely hear it beneath the ominous sirens, the gruesome horns, a periodic shrill beep that never stops, but, "You really had to do that?" someone asks.
"I didn't have any other choice. He was running!"
"No other choice? He's a kid–"
"Is he?"
There is no answer. Nothing. No one replies. The sirens, the horns, the beep, all have stopped again. I open my eyes. What was it? It felt like a dream. But – I was awake.
Swallowing a huge gulp of saliva, I hold the edge of the stone-like bed and get up. On a long shelf just opposite the mirror, lay tens of awards and medals and trophies, though all appear as though they're made of rocks. There is no shine left in them anymore, no grace, and no pride.
"How do you know that?" a girl's voice says from outside the room, behind the door. Her voice.
"Because you deserve every little bit of it," a male voice replies. I stand still, paralyzed, my tears that I can feel mixing with the sweat I can't. My reflection looks at myself, curious, horrified. How can it be? I whisper.
"Oh," her voice cracks a little, "thank you." No!
"Oh, shut up!" No! "Now get in, I've got something to show you." Don't! I run to the door, and beat it. I knock as hard as I can.
"What is it?" No, god, please, no! I knock and knock but they can't listen. I can't listen. I kick the door and hit with everything my body can offer, but it makes no difference. No sound ever comes out. I cry, veins bursting out of my throat. I plead for it to stop.
"You need to have a seat when you see it or you'll faint, trust me" the guy says. Oh god, I weep, please, NO!
"No, I don't know if he'll be alright!" a blurry figure in a moony coat snaps at some more blurry figures, wearing a dark gritty, burnished color.
