Sinister Sensations

Adolescent Disturbia

There is a foretold place, where nightmares lurk at every corner, and a single false movement could send the person tumbling into its icy depths. One can only disguise their discomfort in such a place, masking the terror it has been known to rupture. The fact of life is: it is unavoidable. Upon arrival to the desolate and demeaning place, anyone would wonder what purpose they had for coming to this distant land, especially so early in the day, when the senses are distorted, and mind is distant. A “fresh start” others call it, I, for one, disagree. Different portions of the day will only reveal what this foreign land has to offer, from arrival, to a rush, to a pause, to one’s eventful departure, all are considered with delicate graces, alien in their own ways.

Once found in this dilapidated place, I can’t escape, walls closing in on me as I walk down the narrow pathways, trapped in a web of confinement and solitude. Fog rolls across the murky sky, and I can feel the few others’ eyes on me, dissecting my composure, daring and scrutinizing me as I pass, their soft chatter a relief after such piercing silence. There is a sense of dull calmness as my gaze would scour the grimy walls of my prison, my nerves collecting into brief anxiety, forming a rock-hard bundle of apprehension as I look for a familiar face among the rest. Slowly others file in, forming little clusters of inhabitants, like sheep to the slaughter. One can only wonder how long the order will last. The wind whips by, sighing and groaning as it shakes the barren trees nearby. Slowly, I too, form a group, and without this pack, there is no survival; there is no hope of living in this forsaken land, alone, it just isn’t possible. We stand and talk, ignoring the long maroon benches that stretch down the slender hallway led astray, as we are lost in simple chatter, speaking about how we’ve been, how things are, the mistakes we’ve made, how to solve them lest they come up again, and finally what we’d do if we ever left this miserable place, sharing what little knowledge of the world we have, and, if anything, enjoying what little freedom we have.

To our discomfort, we find ourselves showered with unbearable noise, drowning out any previous conversations as we are ushered off once again to other unknown regions, separating us from our packs, but not permanently. There are many others now as my ears begin to ring, signaling the countdown lest we want a lashing, our nerves buzzing like an incessant insect. Everyone forms a single mass, yet isolated in the sea of people crowding the walkways, suffocating me in my haste. I stumble down a nearby stairwell, listening to our steps form a chorus of thuds, strangled by the bodies that intermingled, weaving in and out of my path. The air smelled acrid, bitter and unpleasant to the senses. Finally I make it to the dull white harshness of the room, dreading what is to surely come next as I enter the doorway. It is here, in this little oppressive room, that they brainwash us, forcing stifling bits of information into our skull as we try to comprehend and or fixate our attention elsewhere. To my understanding, sometimes even I am the one reduced to nothing from the hypnotism and the, somewhat repetitive, and underhanded tasks given by our mentors, and to some extent, I am able to say it is okay. The mind is weak and shies away from pain or harm, therefore, it is easier that I give my consent instead of forcing open rebellion, although I am not happy to oblige by either outcome. I only wish to wonder past those gates, past the endless sky, to the beauty of the outside world and out of captivity, but we can only glimpse it through streaked windows. We are all thinking the same thing, secretly hoping, that is, unless they have already been claimed by our ever vigil seducers of the mind. All who remain count the seconds, wishing, willing for that sweet escape, but there is never an escape, not really, not for us; it’s an endless cycle, only to be repeated day after day after day.

Eventually the suffrage is paused, and our captors release us for a brief break. Falling into an obedient line, we wait for whatever sustenance they have to offer us. My stomach groans in desperation as the warm smell of food teases my nostrils and I await my turn. What sweet torture after they have left us, leaving us to fend for ourselves while they prepare for their next batch of mindless victims, all wondering the same thing: What now? Once I have acquired the unidentifiable gruel, I slump back to our bench, sitting at an end where the paint isn’t peeling or coated with something disgusting. Slowly the others join the small crowd, returning to our previous conversations with exuberance and delight. I take a bite, and the item tastes salty against my teeth, smelling of spices and cheese, somewhat good, if you don’t think about it. I continue to finish it, licking my fingers, unsatisfied, but quenching my hunger for now. I enjoyed the warmth of my meal, the heat lingering in the pit of my stomach, warming my exterior to an extent, contrasting the blistering cold that swam around us, caressing our heels, biting our toes, fingers, and ears. Some of us huddle together, others shifting in place as the chill sunk in, embracing us in frost, but still we laughed and smiled, glad to have this transient pause in the day, selfishly claiming it for only us and ourselves to enjoy. The moment is fleeting, ending as rapidly as it began, and slowly our group dispersed, back into the gloom of the fog and looming faces of the mist, and back to another white brimmed room, silence swallowing it’s newly attained as we wait for the horrors to begin again.

On high alert, everyone, even the previous people whose minds were weak enough to influence, smolder in their seats, and there is a sudden emptiness and sort of enthusiasm as the final bell tolls, signaling our departure, back to our cozy homes from whence we came, only to be back again the next day. We were all, every last one of us, even our tormentors, filled with a sense identical to seeing light for the first time in years, unmistakable in its beauty, almost able to touch it, feel its radiating heat, before it splutters out in a puff of smoke. Nobody waits, fleeing out the door and filing to all exits. There are cheers of jubilance all around, hearts pounding as we greet the exit, exhausted from another day’s work. Passing the crowded halls, we sprint to our destination, clothes billowing at our sides, forgetting the peeling paint and dirty walls, forgetting the crusty food and unbearable cold, and forgetting the chilling horrors of the torture chambers and emotionless rooms, the busses beckoning as we race homeward bound and the school day finally comes to a close. To the parking lots we go, forgetting past eventless days or the fact that we will have to return tomorrow; glad for the release as the clouds roll by and the sun sweeps the horizon, happy for the momentary disregard of our adolescent disturbia.