Stitches

Chapter 1: I push past a ton of doctors

A rubbery, smooth ovoid lies unevenly in the crease of my palm, blending with the coal coloured surroundings. Lustrous, frigid tiles chill my bare feet, while the thread-bare attire gently floats towards my icy skin, carried swiftly in the breath of a draft. I roll the pill-like object around my hand, using the tips of my fingers to manoeuvre it around in a circling pattern, subsequently pinching it between my first finger and thumb. My arms quiver as I gradually lift my hand toward my mouth, proving to be a dangerous object. Against my tongue, the object feels like a vitamin chew sweet, flavoured alike to liquorice or ginger.

Glup.

Suddenly, the lights flick on. The pristine, blank room seems whiter than usual. An aching, queasy feeling spikes through my abdomen, like that of a woman's. Grouped adults wearing lab-coats stare intently at me, clenching my stomach, through a thick, greyed window. Nauseating pain seeps higher up my body, creating a sultry, sickening sensation throughout my throat. Ear-splitting alarms pierce "alarmingly" through my ears, flashing a hypnotic red across the lens of my eyes.

Doctors rush toward me - slamming the door behind them - and forcefully pin me down. I attempt to boot, hit, strike, slap the assaulter, proving to no avail. A clammy palm pushes roughly against my crimson speckled face, while a milky, burning fire climbs against my tonsils like desperate souls. Their damp breath blows against my cheek unevenly, and a moment of tranquillity whispers gently across the compact walls of my confinement. Two gloved fingers stretch the left corner of my lower lip. Soon after, all I feel is pain. An icy cold object is pushed viciously into the area stretched. My eyes were covered by the doctor's claws, but I doubt I would wish to gaze upon what was occurring. Iron tasting liquid leaks onto my tongue, as the metal object is pulled through and out my lips repeatedly, getting tighter and tighter. Eventually, a knot is tied and I was unable to speak a word.

The sickness finally rises out my throat, my stomach trying to regurgitate the harmful poison. Black goo oozes irritatingly between the minuscule gaps between my lips, trickling onto my chest. The liquid leeches further up my oesophagus, leaking through my nose - as if I were having a ghoulish nose bleed. My face seemed hot and stiff, going red from the compression.

The doctors walk towards the door as if I were completely fine: I wasn't important. Out of my instincts, I barge past the white clothed men and limped as fast as I could down the haunting corridor. I take hold of a stray wheeled walking frame, lurching my body weight onto the steel contraption. Static crunches across the walkie talkies, vibrating with the voice of an urgent lady.
"Subject 48 has escaped their containment cell, please engage in the emergency protocol"
A natural shine gleams through the double doors ahead of me, signifying my destination. Adrenaline pumps through my body, the pain weakens. Everything seems timely until I was stopped. The doors wouldn't open.

Police sirens blared out the hospital doors, guns held up to the windows. Before long, a group of armed scientists line up behind me, attempting to intimidate me into their command. I had no choice but to give in, or attempt to push past. Soon after I try to act, the frame slips on the newly polished floor, knocking the wall of monsters over onto their knees.

The corridors winded for what seemed like hours, though the alarms still blared. Then I remembered. A small window was built by a fault in the design, from what I heard from my rare cell companions. Smashing the window with a hammer recklessly, I escape the clown house was locked within. Unfortunately, what lied ahead was blue, murky and full of boats. Algae from the chains stained my skin from climbing aboard a moving cruise ship. Where was I heading?