Empty Chamber

gross, you're gonna need a new carpet.

This is seriously getting ridiculous. Every single night you get these nightmares about some stupid roulette game, and it's starting to make you sick. Down to the core, puke your guts out kind of sick. You were throwing up everywhere except the sink or toilet, and since you never got the chance to eat anyway, all that came up was more of your weight and putrid bile. It was fucking sick, passing out and letting your head thump against the ground, getting you sucked into another nightmare. It's probably getting on your damn nerves, waking up like a gutted zombie, crawling to your only means of communication propped up on a short side table, a house phone. Though, the table seemed like the tallest thing in the world from where you were wasting away. 

And there you were, at it again. You wanted to give up at that point, it wasn't fair. Your hair was unkempt and your face pressed against the rough carpet, real embarrassing. Rug burn is a bitch, and it almost brought you to tears even thinking about crawling over it to get to the nearest phone. A sad groan escaped from your soul, sounding like you were at the end of your rope. And yeah, you fit the part. You couldn't control anything but your peripheral sight and your arms, your vision was foggy and wavering, only able to show the strands of your carpet. There was no way you could lift yourself, but you could crawl. What else were you gonna do, lay there and go back to sleep? Well, yeah, you could've done that, but you fucking didn't 'cause you're a weak, beaten, and deprived of human necessities badass! 

And there you were, grappling with the overwhelming urge to give up. It felt so unfair, you never deserved anything close to this disgusting torture. Your disheveled hair and the sensation of your face against the coarse carpet only added to the embarrassment. The rug burn was excruciating, and the mere thought of dragging yourself across it to reach the nearest phone was almost enough to bring you to tears. A despondent groan escaped your lips, reflecting the overwhelming feeling that you had reached the end of your endurance. A despondent groan escaped your lips, knowing that you were trying to shake off the fact that you really were at the end of your rope. You seemed utterly powerless, your vision was clouded and unsteady, allowing you only a hazy view of the carpet fibers. There was no way you could lift yourself, but you could crawl. What else were you gonna do, lay there and go back to sleep? Well, yeah, you could've done that, but you fucking didn't 'cause you're a weak, beaten, and deprived of human necessities badass!

You gripped as tight as you possibly could to a few strands on your carpet, bundling them up in your closed fist and pulling yourself along. For someone with troublingly low food intake, -or actually, troublingly high food outtake- your body felt heavy like two bowling balls were stuffed in your stomach and you were dragging them along with you. Do guts weigh that much? Your crawling was.. sad and hard to watch, even though you were pretty much by yourself with no one to watch as you painfully wormed your way to a phone for help.

Your breathing was heavy and staggered, your nose stuffy and starting to leak with snot. Gross. But you couldn't even move your face, it just ran from your nose and onto the carpet as you continued to pull and repeat, the sick liquid smearing into the ground and onto your clothes. You couldn't even feel disgust, this is how you lived every disappointing day, pathetic and embarrassing- how do you even live like this? Oh, but you were almost to the table, your face starting to feel raw and sucky with how you were dragging yourself, rug burns creeping in to create wounds and tear open old ones. Unable to see where you were going, you relied on your busted-up hands, bloody and raw knuckles getting stung by the string fibers that cover your carpet, not particularly enjoying the feeling of the string coming apart and sticking to open wounds. Ouch. 

You hit something! Your fingers, they felt around and they touched something! A bit of extra push and you could feel it, it was wood, the nice and polished wood that made up that short side table. You were so relieved you could cry, and you would if you had it in you, but you were running low on energy for stupid things like letting out emotions. You only had one thing left to do: grab the phone. Oh and also make the call and call for help. Three things left to do and no choice but to do it. Again, you could've given up and slept on the ground, but you're a survivor, not a thinker. 

You grasped at the wooden leg of the table, fingernails lightly scratching at it as you stretched and stretched that tired arm to even get close to getting a grip. You sounded like you were dying, gasping for air, and having this croaking in your throat from the tension of your efforts. Like a worm, you tried to inch yourself closer, using your other elbow and reaching for that leg, and finally, you got your clammy hand wrapped around it. Once you passed that milestone, it was like you were on fire, in both a good and bad way.

You were making progress, getting higher and higher up, your hand reaching the corner of the table, only inches away from the phone, so close you could taste it through the burning in your fingertips, but you were also sweating and panting like a sinner in church, your throat dry and burning even though there was plenty of liquid leaving your face. Tears, snot,  and drool, it was all painting the perfect- no, petrifying picture of you and your miserable attempts at just staying alive. But that didn't matter to you, did it? No, you couldn't care less if you looked like a messy monstrosity, you cared about living, waking up, and being able to breathe, how annoying. 

You were getting closer, running your fingertips over the buttons and desperately trying to get a solid grip on the phone, straining your hand hard enough to get a cramp, but luckily for you, that didn't happen. But you fell instead. You slipped, one momentary slip and it sent you back down to the floor, your arm thudding against the table before dropping down with you. That must've hurt. It throbbed in its painfulness, and everything just seemed to devolve to breathing. The simple in and out, distracted from the fact that you looked like a corpse from under the table. You were lucky though, lucky enough to have the phone land on the ground with you, not out of your reach. You would've snatched it up, but anything fast would make your brain explode. Instead, you just dialed a friend's number and relaxed your whole body as someone answered the line.

"yello? you there, guppy?" A familiar voice rang through the phone, but as familiar as it sounded, no name came to mind, that's weird, he even called you a nickname. yeah, you recognized it, but still, no name. He's probably not important if you can't remember, so you try to go around that.

"uhh huh, hel- get hel-" Yeah you couldn't even control your lips, so you were left with a mouth wide open, gagging a bit on the saliva that was pooling in your mouth. Still gross. But it seemed that "Forgettable" understood you, even snickering a bit at your unfortunate position.

"okay, okay, don't waste your breath. i promise i'll be there in a jiffy. see ya, guppy... bye!-" The call ended before Forgettable finished his goodbye, and you couldn't be more relieved. Your head rang and throbbed but you knew the feeling would slowly fade and go away, leaving you so peaceful on the ground, even though you looked disgusting.

(this is gonna be awesome!! first chapter done!!)