Room 93 (FIRST DRAFT)

Day 16

Pain. Red. Blue. Red. Crimson. Red. Amelie? Red. 93. Red. Knife. Red. Hospital. Red. Gold. Red. Hannah? Red. White. Red. Help. Red. Darren? Red. Mummy? Red. Daddy? Red. Isaac? Red. Gone. Red. Please. Red. Blood. Red. Eric. Red. Missing. Red. Left. Red. Bad. Red. Melanie. Red. Frieda. Red. Mae. Red. Please. Red. Never. Forget. Me.

Amelie -

Delilah.

Pain spreads across me like a disease. I bite my lip to silence the pain that is tearing me apart. My head is filled with the sort of numb feeling you get when you eat too much ice cream too quickly. I feel the grip of unconsciousness squeezing me tightly but it's sweet relief is not yet mine. It dangles in front of me, teasing small pricking tears from me. From the edge of my thoughts my arm fumbles for the pain, as if locating it would make it cease. It's then that I realise the pain isn't in my leg where I expected it to be but in my abdomen.

Searing pain strikes me from each side causing my body to shiver in pain. Suddenly I feel a long sharp blade dig deep into my abdomen. The sudden rush of pain drags me back into the present allowing the grasp of unconsciousness to flee and leave me in the hands of the uncontrollable pain. I stretch my hand to my abdomen to feel for the wound in which the knife is penetrating but my hand feels nothing but ripped and dirty material. The knife pulls up half the way before once more digging down into my body. I cry out in pain and feel a pair of hands hold my writhing body. Blood fills my mouth from my cut lip. The taste of my own blood forces fresh tears to the surface of my eyes. As if at the sight of my pain ridden tears the knife withdraws once more only to repeat its previous action. Each searing pain crushes me under its weight. I lose count of how many times it digs into me in the spinning pain of my own confusion, blood and the sharpened edge of knife. Then, suddenly and without warning, everything goes blank and dark. I. AM. ALONE.

'Liz!' Unfamiliar voices call out to me, 'Liz!' There again. The voices. The shouting. Loud. Too loud. Pain. Everywhere. Stop. Stop!
'STOP!' I scream. My throat is hoarse and painful. I want it to stop. I want everything to stop right now!
'Liz!?' The voices call out, summoning me from the womb of hell itself. A controlled and steady hand grips my shoulder, pinning me down so I don't spiral out of control. The voices murmur slightly and I wave a hand to stop them, to quieten them.
'Liz, Liz, are you okay?' The voice is gentle, soothing. It is so different from the panicked and loud voices from before. It is comforting and friendly. It is home. I try to pries my eyes open but they object and shut even firmer.
'What's happening?' The squeaky and high pitched call of my own voice surrounds me. I feel dragged back to reality as the single reminder that I am not dead sings around me.
'We don't know.' A quieter and more child like voice replies. The voice itches at my brain, attempting to awaken something that is locked in a deep sleep. Something about the voice is familiar and comforting, just like the voice from before.
'Your going to be okay,' Samantha. The name pops into my head as the voice speaks. Samantha. The girl. My friend. She is here. I remember her from before. Her soft voice and her chirpy attitude. She always has been optimistic. Her voice relaxes me enough to open my sore eyes.

I blink steadily once, twice. Faces crowd round me, blurry and out of focus. I count each muddled head. One... Two... Three... Four... Five. Five heads peering down at me expectantly.
'Good morning.' One head remarks. A few of the heads giggle at the comment but I don't respond.

My eyes beg for the dark haven from before but the bright lights of the room draw me in. Draw me back. White blinds me as I stumble pathetically for my vision. Everything looks distorted and strange. The faces are smudged like someone dropped a pitcher of water over a freshly painted painting. I recognise a few of the shapes of the faces but I can't tell where from.