Room 93 (FIRST DRAFT)

Day 1

The cold. I feel it everywhere. It is flowing inside my very soul, like a disease. I get the feeling that no matter what I did to warm myself up nothing would change. I could feel it seeping through me. I suppress a shiver as I lay in the darkness. I want to drain all my blood out of me and replace it with warm blood. I want to drain all the coldness out of me and throw it far far away.

I attempt to move but I cannot. Thinking about the cold works me up so I try to ignore it. I focus on my feelings. What do I feel? I ask myself. I search deep inside me. I feel nothing. My heart beat quickens. What do I remember? I search for that too. I remember nothing. It seems that my whole life didn't exist until this moment. Like I wasn't even born before is second. It is my first memory and my only one. I shake with sorrow and loss, although it is stupid and won't change anything. I no longer have an identity, I just am. I just will be.

It's a bit like when you go on a roller coaster and you get to the loop. Your stomachs cartwheels and for one deadly second you are infinite. You have no beginning and no end, your there and your not there, you just are. I feel like I don't exist at all, I am merely a pawn for people to play with.

Loneliness kick me in the side as I listen for any sign that I am not alone. My legs refuse to obey me and I cannot move. I lay on the cold floor alone. Alone. Alone. I have to repeat it several times to make it feel real. Alone. Nothing stirs and I am purposeless, infinite but purposeless.

I focus on the abyss of darkness. Drawing in all my energy to think about it. What was out there? Was anyone out there? What was I doing here? I strain to hear anything but there is nothing to hear. I try a little harder but I know that it isn't going to change anything.

I once again pull against the invisible ropes that tie me to the floor. The whole scene seems obscure and weird. My arm stings as the last of my energy drains. I manage to twist my head to the side so I can examine my arm. My skin is deathly pale and there are thin cuts down my arm. I don't know why but from the hazy my mind has become I remember learning tally's at school. The fence when you get to five. All down my arm is covered in them. Blood seeps from the cuts and I can feel them more and more as I run out of energy.

A cough sounds from beside me and I look around the room,
'Hello?' My voice sounds croaky and I wonder if I always sound like this, 'Anyone there?'
'Hey?' Another voice comes from beside me, close by. Relief floods me, I am not alone,
'Who are you?' I ask, my voice sounds clearer but I have to bite my lip to hold back tears of joy and pain and sorrow. I don't know who I am I think to myself,
'I don't know.' He sounds young like me and I realise I don't know how old I am,
'I don't know who I am. I don't know if I have a family or how old I am. I don't even know my name,' I choke out. My words are muffled by tears. I didn't realise how desperate I am for someone to confide in.
'At least we aren't alone.' We sit silently. I try and think about what he said. I would probably go insane if I was alone in this god forsaken room.

I run my hand along the floor. It is cold. Very cold. Everything makes me shiver with fright or worry, I can no longer tell the difference. Something hangs around the room sinisterly. It feels almost like fear itself.
'Do you have the cuts?' The words fall out my mouth before I can stop them,
'What do you mean?' He sounds confused. I look around the room, there isn't a single light source but I can see most the room and the out-line of the boy beside me,
'The tally. Like someone was counting something. They bleed so much and they hurt too.' He shakes his head,
'No but I have rope burns on my wrist. They must have been bound by really thick rope,' he doesn't sound scared so much as curious about the whole situation. What an arsehole.
'Can you sit up?' I look towards him as he struggles. He flops down several times but eventually he sits up for good and twist round to see me,
'Yeah, I can.' I try to sit up too but it takes me a bit longer.

Now that we are both sitting up I can see his face properly. He must be around eight. He has short brown hair and chubby cheeks. He looks so full of life. He is wearing jeans and a short sleeved shirt. I look down at myself and see long brown hair trailing down onto a blue dress. I am confused about how little blood there is on the dress considering how much blood I must have lost from the cuts,
'What should I call you?' He asks. I didn't even think of that, I can't go around calling him boy after all.
'How about a number?' I don't know why the thought springs to mind but it does,
'Call me nine,' he says grinning,
'Call me eight!' We smile at each other and I see black spots dancing before me. It takes me a few seconds to realise that they are even there, and then I fall...