Jayleigh Draper- 3rd

A dingy ceiling and ugly fluorescent lights were the first thing to greet my eyes as they shot open. I bolted up, feeling bile rise in my throat. My mouth involuntarily shot open as hot stomach acid shot out of me. I winced at the entire sensation, my throat burned and I was disgusted with the feeling of my own vomit on my chin. I looked down to see the damage that I had done, but could only focus on my ankle. My ankle that was attached to a chain. I gasped as I tried to move it out, naturally it didn’t budge. I looked around, taking in the room around me. I was in a dirty bathroom. The once white tiles around me were now a light shade of brown, covered in dirt and grime and God knows what else. I gagged at the sight of the toilet. Brown streaks led themselves out of the bowl, giving the illusion of some horrid running substance. I cringed at the sight. Needles lay in the corners of the bathroom. I scooted towards the center as I caught sight of  them, not wanting to be worse off than I already had been. 

You’re probably wondering how I got into this situation, but quite frankly, I have no idea. I had no enemies, I never directly messed with anyone, and I never held any malicious intent towards anyone. I really was clueless here. I forgot to mention, a small ugly TV sat in the room with me. I only bring this up now because it just flickered on.

A thing with high, disturbingly high, cheekbones and black eyes with a detached chin appeared in front of me. Its black hair appeared neat but as the light caught it, I could see the mats. I furrowed my eyebrows as its chin moved to say something. 

“Greetings, Amelie. You’re probably wondering why you’re here, aren’t you? I’ll tell you where you might be. You might be in the room that you die in. Up until now, you simply sat in the shadows, watching others live out their lives. But what do voyeurs see when they look into the mirror? Now, I see you as a strange mix of someone angry and yet apathetic. But mostly just pathetic. So are you going to watch yourself  today, Amelie? Or do something about it?” It only watched me as I sat there, glaring. 

The TV shut off as I was thrown into my own sea of thoughts. What did he mean by that? I frequently helped others and stepped up to take action, so what was he trying to say about me. I thought about everything I had ever done. From the time that I helped Mrs. Jones plan her poor late husband’s funeral to the time that I merely watched my nieces and nephew. When had I ever sat back and watched others live their lives? Then it dawned on me. The one time that I hadn’t held a door for someone. They were a good 30 feet away, and I was in a rush to see my family after not seeing them for over a year. This happened back in my junior year of college, my early 20s. I’m currently 35. There’s no way that I’m being punished for such a meager act that happened all those years ago, I won’t believe it. It was a meaningless sin and I hadn’t even done anything wrong. I was tired, my head hurt, and quite frankly, they were quite a walk away, not even seeing me. This was the only thing that I could think of with that kind of implication. Obviously I’ve done wrong before, but the times that I had, it was while taking charge of something, not sitting back. Why was I facing consequences for this? 

The TV switched back on and I felt myself jump at the sound. 

“I forgot to give you your directions. You truly are such a foul woman that I just can’t think straight sometimes. Amelie, you have to get to the antidote across the room. You cannot reach that side of the room in your current state, as the chain only stretches so far. You must find a way to-”

“Sir! The toilet for the victim is about to overflow! What do we do with the saw?”

The thing only sighed and looked at the camera. 

“Well, you know what you need to do. You have two hours to get the anecdote for the horse load of poison that is currently running through your bloodstream. Your time started like 10 minutes ago. Go.”

I looked at the grimy toilet, gagging violently. I actually had to stick my hand in there. Sighing, I crawled over to the monstrosity and opened the lid. I searched for this supposed saw with my eyes first, not before turning around and dry heaving to the point where I was sure that I had given myself a couple of cracked ribs. What my eyes were currently searching was a toilet full of feces. I won’t go into detail because I don’t want to think further about it. Moving on. I huffed in fear before slamming my teary eyes shut and shoving my shaking hand into the toilet, hoping I wasn’t doing this in vain. I would rather have this thing cut my hand off on accident than it not be in here. 

The liquid seeped out of the sides of the toilet covering the floor in front of me as I searched for my escape weapon. This was absolutely horrendous. I don’t even know if I want to survive the poison after this. Do I actually have anything that will help me recover from shoving my hand into a bowl of excrement to look for the thing that is most likely gonna cut my leg off. I paused, looking up at the TV. 

“Hey! What’d you inject me with? How bad’s it gonna hurt?” 

Silence. 

“If you ignore me I’m not playing into your little game,” I huffed.

The TV then switched on. 

“If you don’t play my game then you die. Also the saw isn’t in the toilet, I can’t believe you fell for that.”

I shrieked and yanked my hand out of the toilet bowl, lunging for the thing. The TV flickered off and my foot caught on my chain, slamming me into the ground. My chin hit the ground with a sickening crunch, my tongue caught in between my teeth. I cried out in pain, tears now streaming down my face. All I could taste was metal and salt, and a strangely shaped appendage fell onto the ground in front of me. I had bitten a piece of my tongue off. Shakily, I picked it up, analyzing it, wow, I really did have a pointy tongue.  Ignoring my previous thought, I tossed the muscle aside and spit out the glob of blood that had obviously built up in my mouth. I’m probably gonna die of sepsis instead now. 

“You messed up, now I’m really not playing. My mother taught me not to buy into things like this anyways! Ha!”

This puppet really thought he had won, I won’t cut anything off. Aside from my tongue. On accident. At this point, I was sure I looked insane. My hair was in mats from my head being slammed into the tile, and I was sweating anxiously. It was actually quite cold in the room. Almost too cold. My clothes, which were now covered in dirt, blood, and another substance were now clinging to my body, making me even more uncomfortable than I already had been. Man, I really would kill for a Coke right about now. I sighed, yearning for caffeine. I don’t know what’s been injected into me, but it’s kind of weak. The only thing affecting me right now is my caffeine addiction and lack of a tip of a tongue. My punishment must be as mild as my “crime.”

Maybe I could just look for the saw out of boredom. That would put my mind on something. I got up from the now blood-stained place in the center of the room and stretched, looking around. Everything was still disgusting and the weird needles were still piled up in the corners. I walked towards the sink, cringing at the sight in front of me. It was covered in blood and what I assumed was dirt. Not only that, but chunks were piled up with coagulated blood, looking truly as disgusting as ever. I lifted my bloodstained hand and turned on the faucet, the water being an ugly brown that made my stomach turn. As the water poured down the drain, a metallic glint from the drain caught my eye. I craned my neck down, searching for saw teeth. The saw was in the drain. How on earth am I meant to get to that? 

Slamming my hands on the sides of the sink, I threw my head down in exasperation. I started thinking once again. I seriously haven’t done anything to deserve this, so why am I here? The thought of me not holding a door open for someone so far away from me was almost taunting me, as it was so meek that I had begun to falter in entertaining it. Maybe it had been something that I had done in one of my strange blackout episodes. I did wake up covered in blood once, but no one had seen me as far as I knew, and I was sure that I hadn’t been the one to cause it. Shaking the thought off, I wracked my brain for another instance. There was no way this thing had known about that. No one did. Not even my own mother. She hadn’t even had the chance to take it to the grave. 

I looked into the broken mirror in front of me, shrieking when the remaining pieces on the wall fell down into the sink. Rude. I slammed my hands down once more before turning around to face the room that I had unfortunately grown accustomed to at this point. It’s so cold in here. My thoughts were interrupted by the flickering on of a TV. 

“If you’re not going to do anything, then I’m going to start setting up for my next victim. You’re quite literally a waste of space. Also, you have 20 minutes left.”

I glared at the thing. I was determined not to fall into its trap. 

“Start setting up then. I’m not doing anything.”

The TV shut off once again, leaving me with my own thoughts.  Wow. It’s quite rude. 

I started roaming my prison, observing the oh-so-lovely needles, the shine of the dingy tiles, the flickering of the lights above me. My mouth felt terrible, I was lacking a piece of my tongue and it felt like cotton sat in the space, drying my throat as well. This room isn’t even interesting enough for me to look at anymore, my body feels like it’s been stuffed with lead, my head is not only spinning but swimming, and my mouth is still in excruciating pain. 

I was bored and am still poisoned. What a life.

The floor below me provides no comfort, cold and smooth against my back as I lie there foaming at the mouth. My chest aches. I can feel my lungs constricting as fluid rushes to my mouth, pouring out. My fists clench around nothing, nails tearing into my tired palms as I search for something, anything to grip onto as I live out my final moments. Maybe I should have searched for that saw. 

Nah. 

I coughed, seeing red and white specks fly into the air before landing on my face once again. I have no time to wince as bile rushes up my throat, shooting out of my mouth. I choke at the sensation, as well the bile falling back down my throat. Am I about to choke on my own vomit? 

My question is answered as I begin violently coughing at the feeling of bile going back down into me, probably into my lungs who were currently in the process of crushing themselves under nothing. So many fluids pour down my face that I’m almost embarrassed, until I remember that I’m not a puppet with no moral compass. 

Losing consciousness, I think to myself, ha, I win.