Morbid

The repetitive drip, drip, dripping echoed through the empty cave. 

"Why am I here?" 

The voice bounced off the worn walls. The girl was caught, slumped against one wall, no longer bothering to struggle. Her breath came short and shallow, but even and relaxed. Accepting. Her gaze slowly tracked to the only source of light in the damp cave, a small flashlight, come to rest against a large rock near the adjacent wall. She blinked sluggishly. Her eyes narrowed, for behind the flashlights glow were two frozen silhouettes. 

"Why am I here?" 

Her every move was delayed, her arms lying tiredly at her sides. The silhouettes didn't respond; just stared silently at her. 

She looked away, at the smooth walls of this miniature cave. At the cardboard boxes with blue and green moulds growing progressively up their sides. At the worn, moth-eaten bits of fabric drooping from their lids. At the cold, dim glow of the flashlight. At the silhouettes, stationed stock still, gazes boring into her. 

"Why am I here?" 

She gradually looked up, at a small opening in the cave roof, at a thin sliver of lighter stone visible. She remembered falling, stumbling, tripping. She clung to the memory, but it still faded away. She blinked and saw the flashlight again, then the silhouettes as if for the first time. 

"Why am I here?" 

Over and over, she asked. In her mind, she thought up some crazy conspiracy theories. She saw herself being taken from her trek up the mountain, through corridors of stone to this room. She imagines herself being drugged and drained of strength. She sees the men standing behind the light, watching her.

"Why am I here?"  

Drip... 

Drip... 

Drip... 

"Why am I here?" 

Drip... 

Drip... 

Drip...  

Drip... 

Drip... 

"Why am I here?" 

The repetition helps her as her memory fades and becomes more surreal. She becomes half delirious, pained and weak, drenched in something sticky, like sweat. 

She fades, ever so slowly, she loses her grip on reality.

You can see her, lying there against the wall. See her stare blindly at the old storage room, the door long since jammed with rust, hidden from her view by a corner. You can see small branches lying beside her, where they tore as she fell. You watch as her memory flashes back; walk up a mountain, tripping, falling. Holes gaping in the ground, ready to swallow her whole. You watch her slip, watch her tumble down the stony walls, much like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. You see the torch hit the ground, rolling to rest against the large rock. You see her land... 

She lies slumped against a wall, a jagged rock speared straight through her stomach. The old, broken manikins stand against a wall, staring at the other one, seeing nothing. Her abdomen is soaked in her own sickly sweet blood, gentle rivulets spiderwebbing down her arm where it rests on a small rough boulder. One ends on the tip of her index finger, poised over air. 

Drip... 

Drip... 

Drip... 

"Why am I here?"

**********

Hey there this is just a quick short story i wrote for an english creative writing competetion at school and my friend convinced me to put it up here so i hope you liked it :)

please feel free to leave comments and vote if you wish :) thanks for reading