Descent Into Madness

Chapter 11: Feel Like I Can't See

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself before sitting up. My shirt felt like it was plastered to my back, and I reached to touch it. Whatever was on my back was wet, but the consistency was wrong for blood, and I shivered as an electrical shock ran through me at the touch. My fingers found the sharp edge of glass, and I yanked the sliver out and tossed it across the room before standing up.

Walking towards the door, I stopped to pick up the pocket knife, trying to avoid looking at the bloody mess that was the creature.

As I reached the doorway, my vision swam, and I reached out, curling my fingers around the edge of the door frame. I raised my other hand to my head, the cool, metal handle of the knife soothing against my forehead.

Minus the buzz of the lights, it was quiet. Somehow, it was disturbing me more now than the other times there had been almost complete silence.

Because Phineas is out here, and you know he doesn't do well with silence.

I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry. Keeping one hand against the wall, I started to make my way back to the control room as black spots danced before my eyes.

Burning pain shot through my back like I'd reclined against a hot stove.

The hallway was becoming nothing but a red blur obscured with black. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear up my vision. My hand lost contact with the wall, and I squinted, feeling for the other side of the doorway.

What is wrong with me?

I flinched as my hand banged into the broken door before feeling my way around it.

How far is the control room? Abandoning the slow process of using the wall, I sped up, holding out my hands in the hope to not run into anything as I used my best judgment to keep moving in a straight line in the world of haze.

I bit back a curse as my hand once again collided with something, sharp metal biting into my palm as another cut was added to it with a sting. Trying to ignore it, I stumbled around the obstacle.

With every step my feet felt heavier. Like someone was pouring rocks into my sneakers.

A shiver racked my body. How can I be cold when I'm burning?

In between steps, a sound caught my attention, and I froze. It was a faint and spaced out dripping. I swayed and clasped my head with a squelch from the blood leaking from my hand. Dimly, I realised the sound was my own blood dripping onto the floor.

I wonder if I'll have permanent damage to my hands after all of this. It should have an alarming thought considering how much I rely on my hands. It felt strange that the thought didn't faze me, like it was nothing more than mere observation as I restarted my awkward walk down the hallway.

Either this corridor has grown, or I'm moving much slower than I thought.

As soon as the last word past through my head, my hands hit something solid. The cool metal undamaged aside form a few claw marks as I ran my hands along it, feeling for the crack we had left. Part of me hoped I wouldn't find it, that Phineas had come back to the room and closed the door. That part was disappointed when my fingers slid into the crack.

Another wave of dizziness came upon me, and I leaned my head on the door for a moment, waiting for it to pass. The coldness of it causing more shivers to run through me.

Once I felt like I wasn't about to tumble over, I pulled at the door. It slid slower than before, as if it was somehow heavier now. Or I was weaker.

Unable to open it any farther, I attempted to squeeze through the small opening. Easier said than done as my back raked against the door frame. A hiss forcing its way past my clenched teeth as the burning was mixed with crushing pressure.

A fleeting thought drifted past, wishing I were a little slimmer, quickly replaced with the wish I could have managed to open the door another inch or two.

My feet and hands pushed at the floor and wall as I painfully worked my way though, the door giving a little more under the strain. After what felt like hours, I finally got past. It was so sudden that without the pressure it was putting on me, I collapsed to my hands and knees, taking deep breaths.

The breaths turned to coughing and a metallic taste filled my mouth. A thick liquid ran down my bottom lip and chin.

Images of Phineas' coughing earlier came to mind, the blood running from his mouth, and I yearned to be able to see if the liquid was red. The thought that it might be sent a chill up my spine.

The red blur from the lights was becoming darker while I turned around, not bothering to even try climbing to my feet. I felt my way back to the door and pressed my hands against it, pushing, my bloody hands slid on the undented metal.

My chest clenched, and I gave up on the door. Sitting back on my knees, I ran my hands through my hair before doubling over as a violent coughing fit overtook me, forcing me to brace myself up with my hands.

The tightening in my chest was worsening, my back was a throbbing burn, and lightheadedness was invading me. I closed my eyes, not that it made much difference as my vision was almost completely black.

My arms trembled under my weight while I gasped for air after the intense coughing. The air wasn't coming. Was my wind pipe blocked? Blood pounded in my ears, growing more distorted with every passing beat.

Am I dying?

It would make sense, I couldn't breathe, my heart felt like it was beating much too fast.

I don't want to die here.

But does it matter? Phineas is probably dead already, why not join him?

Dead by your hand. If you die, do you really believe you will be joining him?

I didn't have time to consider it as my arms gave out. Too bad I couldn't have blacked out before hitting the floor.