Empty Chamber

gross, you're gonna need a new carpet.

This is seriously getting ridiculous. the night of you 18th birthday was the first nightmare you would experience that you would never escape from. every day after that slowly withers you down, it's all the same nightmare, you will never escape it. a nightly roulette game, the stakes high and the losses low. six feet deep to be exact. as if you would deserve the privilege of a casket. the thought of sleep, of even closing your eyes for long enough, is starting to make you sick. cursed to forever live in a stupor of disorientation, cursed to throw up everywhere except the sink or any other normal place to spew. All that ever came up your weight and putrid bile, you never ate healthily, either too much or too little. It was fucking sick. oh, you've passed out. seemingly concussing yourself thumped your head that hard against the ground, sucked into another nightmare against your will. but luckily you wake up. you wake up like a zombie gutted of its rotting insides, crawling to your only means of communication. a house phone propped up high on a short side table. Though, from where you were wasting away, the table seemed as tall as the ceiling.

There you were, at it again. I bet you wanted to give up. you'd be an idiot if you didn't. Your unkempt hair and your ugly fucking face are pressed against the rough carpet. embarrassing. A sad groan escaped from your soul, and it sounded like you were at the end of your rope. You couldn't control anything but your vision and arms. and even then, 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 definitely crawl. What else were you gonna do, lay there and go back to sleep? you could've done that, but you didn't because you're deprived of basic human necessities. you're barely functional.

There you were, grappling with the overwhelming urge to give up. So unfair, you never deserved anything close to this... embarrassing torture. the sensation of your face against the coarse carpet only added to the embarrassment. It was just excruciating. A despondent groan escaped your lips, reflecting the overwhelming feeling that you had reached the end of your fleeting endurance.

You gripped as tight as you possibly could to a few strands on your carpet, bundling them up in your closed fist to pull yourself along. For someone with troublingly low food intake, -or actually, a troublingly high food outtake- your body felt strangely heavy. like an ample amount of bowling balls were laying dormant in your stomach and you were dragging them along with you. Do guts weigh that much? Your crawling was... sad and hard to watch, though no one was there to watch as you painfully wormed your way to a phone for help, well... except for me.

Your breathing was heavy and staggered, your nose stuffy and beginning to leak with snot. Gross. you couldn't even wipe your sickly face, it just ran from your nose to the carpet as you continued to pull and repeat, pull and repeat... You couldn't even feel disgust, this is how you lived every disappointing day. shamefully pathetic and embarrassing- makes some wonder how you even live like this. But for this one moment in your unlucky life, you felt a sliver of luck. you were almost to the table, your face raw and torn from the haphazard manner of how you were dragging yourself, creating wounds and tearing open old ones. you relied on your busted-up hands to see where you were going, your bloody and raw knuckles stung by the string fibers that cover your carpet, not particularly enjoying the feeling of the string sticking to open wounds. Ouch.

Oh! You hit something! Your fingers, they felt around and they touched something! with a bit of an extra push you could feel it, even taste it. it was wood, the nice and polished wood that made up the leg you were grasping for. You were so relieved you could cry, and you would if you had it in you, but you couldn't possibly cry at a time like this. You only had one thing left to do: grab the phone. Oh and also call for help. so not one- two things left to do and no choice but to do it. Again, you could've given up and slept on the ground, but you didn't for some odd reason i won't pretend to understand.

You tried to grasp the wooden leg of the table, fingernails lightly scratching at it as you stretched and stretched that tired arm to get close to a grip. You sounded like a dying animal on the side of the road, gasping for air having this sickly croaking in your throat from the tension of your efforts. Like a worm in the dirt, you inched closer, and finally, your clammy hand wrapped around it.

You were making progress, getting higher and higher up. Your hand then reached the corner of the table, inches away from the phone, so close you could taste it through the burning in your fingertips- and oh my god, you reeked. you were sweating and panting, and if you could smell more than the snot bubbling in your nostrils, you would throw up. your throat was impossibly dry that paralleled the plentiful amount of liquid leaving your face. Tears, snot, and drool, all of it painting the perfect- no, petrifying picture of you and your miserable attempts at just staying alive. it's annoying to think of yourself being different than any other human being. you should've died today, but that doesn't make you special.

You were getting close, running your fingertips over the buttons. Struggling desperately 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! you fell instead. You slipped, one momentary, slightly funny slip and it sent you back down to the floor. your arm thudded against the table before dropping down with you, leaving you with another useless limb. That must've hurt. It throbbed in its painfulness, and everything in your small world impossibly devolved to breathing. The simple in and out, distracting you from the fact that you were as much of a corpse as you looked. You were lucky today, lucky enough to have the phone land on the ground with you, not out of your reach. You would've snatched it up with fervor, but anything that fast would've just killed you. So instead, you just dialed a friend's number and let your whole body relax when someone answers 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 odd, he had even called you a nickname, he should at least deserve the decency of a memory. the nickname was recognizable, but still, no name. oh well, if you can't even remember him, he's probably not important.

"uhh huh, hel- get hel-"  you couldn't control your lips, just leaving your mouth wide open, gagging on saliva that was pooling in your mouth. gross... Thankfully "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 fade, leaving you peaceful on the ground, though you definitely weren't peaceful looking.

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