5 days in Hell (part 1)

Mirrors

Night had passed, only to be replaced by day. Yet, there was no ocean in sight. Instead, I had woke up in a bed. A white bed in a small white room. There wasn't a door anywhere, so I wondered where the others were. All I could think of was, I am alone. It least I thought I was alone, but I was wrong. My body grew tense when I felt someone by me. The shock pushed me off the bed, taking the sheets with me. I fell on to the floor, which was soft and cold. This room was starting to creep me out. "What the hell?" I murmured as I got off the floor, looking at the wall. The walls were mirrors.

I stood there looking at my reflection. An image of a tall, dirty, sweaty boy with blood on his hands. Yet, I looked down at my hands, and there was no blood. My eyebrow rose in confusion, but soon lowered, as if it was rhetorical. This wasn't a mirror. In a way, I was wrong again. Blood had covered my body. It sprayed across my face, got on my shirt, and on my hands. I looked at the mirror, or what ever it was, in confirmation. My feeling of shock turned to shame and fear when I saw the bed turn red. Now I know why the room was white, and now I know why there were mirrors. Maybe it was a test to see how well I can handle killing someone, because red had filled the white.

I turned to see if it was true, but it wasn't. There was no bed, only mirrors. In the mirrors was me, killing someone. I thought I knew that person, but I rejected the thought, afraid to see if it was true. Then I saw it, black hair. Not a blue shirt, so it wasn't Kayla. I knew who it was, but every time the name popped in my head, I shut it out. One can only do this for so long in the testing. Every time I shut the name out, a high pitched ringing sound bounced loudly through the room. Then I heard a voice say, "I love you, Michael." and screamed. It kept doing this over and over again, until I had my head to my knees. Tears continually shot out of my eyes as I screamed in agony. I fell on my side, blood coming out of my nose and ears. The ringing sound got longer and longer, until my body gave up. My screams where finally heard when the ringing stopped. Blood was all over the floor, mixed with the tears of my pain. I rolled over and cried more, but then I heard something else. Anger was the next feeling, forcing me to get up and stop crying. "I'm coming, Michael! Don't move and stay in the middle!" I heard a faint voice say.

I recognized the voice right away. There was no way of telling where it came from, but I knew who it was. It was David. "David! Where are you?" I yelled back. "Hard to tell you that. I'm going to break the glass, so just stand in the middle."

7 years of bad luck...

That couldn't do much, considering I already have four years of testing and four years of war. Still, the thought made me wince. I stood there, waiting in suspense. The silence was the part that really got me. It is all peacefully quiet, then...

BOOM!

The glass shatters across the room, hitting me in almost every part of my body. I brushed off the glass, with a quick recovery. It had felt as if nothing happened before. There was never me killing Terra in the mirrors. No glass was found on the floor. All the blood and tears had gone away, but that wasn't the part that hurt. The memories were killer. Yet it didn't physically happen. Some how, it was all in my head. All that blood and screams, fake. This was just another test to see how well I can handle emotions. I failed this one.

David had an axe in his hand. There was a gray duffel bag on his back. I saw the items it carried; guns. The thought of using a gun was horrifying. They were used in wars for one purpose, killing. Killing is my weakness. I could never kill a living being. In my book, killing someone is killing yourself. That is why the test chose killing for me. They know I can never be a soldier if I don't kill. That isn't even the worst thing. The worst thing was seeing the axe David held, dripping blood.

That is where I had to really question myself.

Who did he kill? Why did he kill them? Where did he get that bag?

I didn't have to answer those questions, it was answered already. It was answered when I looked in David's eyes.

Anger.

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