Ephemeral Echoes: Ghost's Enchantment

˚.⋆𐙚 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓷𝓮: 𝓨/𝓝 𐙚⋆.˚

The floor is cold. It's so cold, my fingertips have started turning a cool shade of purple, as I pull my knees tighter against my chest.

A rough kind of fabric gently covers my skin. It feels like a gown.
A white one, if I'm not mistaken.
There's no shoes on my feet.
No socks.
Just as I noticed, the cold started moving to my feet and my bare legs, shivers spreading on my pale skin. I'm freezing.

My lips are dry. So dry, I can feel several cuts across them as a rusty taste of blood leaks from one of them.
I bring my frozen hand to my face, feeling around.
As I bring my hand back down, my palm has tracks of blood in it.
From what it felt like, a huge slash drags itself from one of my eyes to my cheek on the other side.

That would explain my partially blurry vision.

I have no idea for how long I have been sitting here. It feels like an eternity. I can't remember anything. I can't remember my name.

I want to remember.

The room I'm caged in has dirty, dark-green
walls. Crusty old wallpaper is crumbling off of it, revealing red bricks stacked up in chaotic rows.

There's an unpleasant smell of blood, sweat and mold floating through the air. My head is starting to hurt from resting against the wall in one of the corners of this room.

I try to lift my head. It takes me a few times before I succeed, but when I do, I try to take in my surroundings as best as I can.

There's a rusty, military-like bed right next to me, with nothing but a pillowcase, tainted in a greyish color with many spots on it.

On the wall on my left, there's two thin metal bars parallel to eachother, with a thick brown piece of molding rope on each one coming out of it.

I wonder what they're for.

There's a pool of blood below it, seemingly pretty fresh, as it hasn't dried yet.

Is that my blood?

A sudden burst of pain rushes across my torso as I try to sit upright.
It's not the usual kind of pain.
More like a burning feeling, getting more intense with every movement, while the rough fabric keeps rubbing against what I assume is a big wound.

It's painful, but I manage to move anyway.
Trying to straighten out my legs, I notice that I can't move my left one.
It's like I've lost all kinds of control over it, like It doesn't even belong to me anymore.

Is it broken? I think it is. I'm not sure.
I don't really feel anything.

Just as I decide to try to get up, I hear a faint bang. It's barely noticeable, but it sounded like a door getting smashed open. Perhaps it was from another floor. One below me.

I decide to brush it off. My head is pounding, and it would be to no surprise if I had started hallucinating by now. Whatever is going on with me, I'm sure there's a plausible explanation for where this is coming from.

Perhaps they're coming to get me again.

Like they do every day.