And here is where I confirm that I am, indeed, not dead. I'm alive. I don't have a bullet in my chest, and I don't have the taste of Jason's lips on my own. They tasted like raspberries, by the way.
My eyes shoot open and my voice awakens with a gasp. Water floods over my vision, tinting everything blue, a very soft blue. And there's a pinch like salt against my eyes. I squirm, but many tubes and such restrain me from movement. I grunt, trying to move, because I might die if I don't.
Outside the water, there was figures that squash together, smearing into colors that don't make sense. Maybe. . . people? Things that resemble life? I have no idea. Everything is just. . . am I even here? Everything is blurred, it's like I'm not here, just witnessing it from someone else's perspective, or a dream.
My feet touch the ground. Or something resembling the ground.
And then comes the piercing pain in my head. It's worse than any headache I've ever experienced. A low groan escapes me as I tug against the cords and wires and tubes, trying to touch my head but to no avail. It won't go away. It stays there, eating away at all my thoughts, at everything. The blurred images go to black as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly to get it away.
The water around me begins to drain, and the cords and such retract. I'm left sitting against the glass wall. Drenched and panting. There's a mask on my face. I'm not even trying to get it off. My knees are tucked against my chest and my hands clutching my head.
It will not subside.
All it is is pain. In only my head, but it feels like the head pain is consuming me whole. And I can't get away.
No
Matter
How
Much
I
Try
It
Will
Stay
"Well, I can't tell if it just happened or if I just now realized it. Either one makes me believe something must change, because it's obvious that I am scared of pattern. I am scared of nothing being different. Of everything being the same as it was yesterday. The same details, down to the very movements one does, the same facial expression.Every day. Nothing is ever new. Because that's what pattern is.
This would make some people happy, knowing what was to happen next, being able to change it. Like the days keep repeating. The only change that goes unnoticed is getting older, closer and closer to death, to the end.The one change that happens, the one change that matters the most.And we don't notice it.
Is death a noticeable change? Of course it is. When people notice, of course.When people care and when you care that you're dead. Death is a very noticeable change that takes place in everyone's life, because an absence of life is something people dislike, and they very much notice things they dislike. They try to change it. How to change it.. . well, insanity is always an option. Hallucinations. Seeing those that don't exist any longer.
Which all eventually rounds down to the one major pattern that involves everyone– the pattern of life. And everyone witnesses it, whether you die too early or die too late. It is witnessed in the smallest of ways and cannot be avoided, because avoidance isn't possible.Avoiding death is impossible. Living forever is impossible.
Accepting death is the only possibility.
Is this depressing enough for you? To sum it up, here is this paraphrased: life is a pattern, because death is inevitable.
What logic does this hold, you ask?
Well, I can't tell if it just happened or if I just now realized it. Either one makes me believe something must change, because it's obvious that I am scared of pattern. I am scared of nothing being different. Of everything being the same as it was yesterday. The same details, down to the very movements one does, the same facial expression.Every day. Nothing is ever new. Because that's what pattern is.
This would make some people happy, knowing what was to happen next, being able to change it. Like the days keep repeating. The only change that goes unnoticed is getting older, closer and closer to death, to the end.The one change that happens, the one change that matters the most.And we don't notice it.
Is death a noticeable change? Of course it is. When people notice, of course.When people care and when you care that you're dead. Death is a very noticeable change that takes place in everyone's life, because an absence of life is something people dislike, and they very much notice things they dislike. They try to change it. How to change it.. . well, insanity is always an option. Hallucinations. Seeing those that don't exist any longer.
Which all eventually rounds down to the one major pattern that involves everyone– the pattern of life. And everyone witnesses it, whether you die too early or die too late. It is witnessed in the smallest of ways and cannot be avoided, because avoidance isn't possible.Avoiding death is impossible. Living forever is impossible.
Accepting death is the only possibility.
Is this depressing enough for you? To sum it up, here is this paraphrased: life is a pattern, because death is inevitable.
What logic does this hold, you ask?
Well, I can't tell if it just happened or if I just now realized it. . ."
These words fly through my mind. Over and over again, just the same poem, over and over again, just the same poem, over and over again, just the same poem -
"Alex," snaps a voice. I look up and find a scientist, but he doesn't look like a scientist. He has a white lab coat. A white lab coat. . . a white lab coat. . . a white lab - "It's Daniel. Do you remember me at all?" Remember, remember, remember, remember, remember -
"Daniel," I choke out. My voice is weak and cracks after the 'n.' Still, my vision is blurred and Daniel looks like a painting that a tired person finished by splashing water on. Splashing water, splashing water, splashing water, splashing -
"Hey, girl," says Daniel's patient voice, "Look at me, okay? I wanna see your Ink, make sure it's okay, make sure you're okay. Just look up at me, that's all you gotta do." But my head won't lift, won't lift, won't lift, won't - "Alex,"
I look up at him weakly. He studies my features, then sighs, shaking his head. "The things they do to you guys, I swear. . . Alright, come on. I'll lower the glass. Can you promise not to attack?" Attack, attack, attack, attack - "You're too dazed. I bet you won't be a problem," He smiles a very soft smile and the glass begins to lower, rubbing against my back, causing some pain, but even so I lean up, lean up, lean up, lean -
Daniel sighs again and walks closer to my little black stand. He takes me by the elbow gently, leading me out. My legs hardly work. They feel like jelly mixed with water. So I stumble against Daniel, Daniel, Daniel, Daniel, Daniel -
Eventually he just picks me up and takes me away, away, away, away. . .
YOU ARE READING
Shattered (Completed)
Science FictionAwoken from a not-so-brief slumber, Alex is faced with lots of difficult decisions regarding reality itself. !! This is a VERY bad story, written a while ago !!
