I can barely stand up. My vision is blurred. Everything moves side to side. I manage to stumble to his front door, almost tipping over with every step. My stomach feels off, something needs to be done about it. I turn the knob and fall into the door as it opens.
I can suddenly stand up straight. My vision unblurs a little. I can make out objects in the dark. There's piles and piles of laundry. Where did he get all these dirty rags anyway? The smell of mildew fills the air. Filthy, filthy, house. It feels like a thick layer of dust and sludge. The coolness from the outside fades away as humid, thick, warmth surrounds me. I feel it sticking to my skin and clothes.
I push my left leg forward, my right leg forward. Although upon entrance I felt at least a few pounds lift from my shoulders, my legs still feel so weighed down. It feels as if I waded through a swamp with my thickest pants. Why do I feel so, so...? Ugh...
I tread down the hall, nearly straining to lift my legs. I can almost hear the wet, nonexistent slop on my pant legs smacking against the floor. My stomach is starting to hurt now, like a knife is very slowly trying to escape my twisted gut. I think I'm sick.
I make it to the door after a few seconds, a few seconds that feel like many minutes. Why is it all so slow and dark? There's the door. I can feel the splinters just looking at it, aside from the doorknob, which looks like it's in the beginning stages of rotting out of the door. The whole door and the area around it are streaked with a dried-up dark substance. I reach for the doorknob; it's cold, wet, and soft. Soft? Suddenly, I feel something like mud dripping over my hand, and the doorknob is gone. Was it liquid? Then the whole door melts away. That's just stupid.
I step into his room; I am now assaulted by a strong smell of dirty metal. My head starts to ache. I look directly ahead of me. The room has no furniture, but various building debris. Crumbled stone, decaying wooden planks, wire. He's just sitting there, staring. Splotches and streaks of various muted colors are all over his clothes, body, and face. He directs his gaze towards me He tilts his head, and his greasy overgrown dark hair stiffly falls in the same direction as the tilt. He looks tired and oddly content in this filthy place. The pain through my head and stomach increases. The smell is too much. The pain is too much. My vision becomes dark, and I lose consciousness. Right before I'm completely lost, I see large amounts of dark liquid like that on the door, running from the ceiling and all around the room.
