Afflicted↠ Newt [1]

Chapter 1

afflict [uh-flict]
verb
1. to distress with mental or bodily pain
2. trouble greatly or grievously

•••

Lights flashed in my vision as I fell into a daze. Unaware of where I was, more importantly who I was. The faint sound of rusty gears and chains clanking filled my ears, making it almost impossible for me to think. Darkness was all I saw. I couldn't tell when my eyes were open or when they were closed, and this made me feel a small rush of panic. I felt the ground around me. Metal. I knew I must've been in some sort of room, with four walls surrounding me. I didn't know how big it was, nor was I planning on exploring in complete darkness. So I just sat there, in one of the four corners. My head on my knees. I felt the room shift, as if it were moving. Then, I realized that it was, in fact, moving upwards. Like an elavator. I was in some sort of lift. I closed my eyes- well, at least I thought I did. Again, it was almost impossible to tell in complete darkness.
Snippets of scences that I had once seen played in my mind like a movie of my own life. I knew it was my life, something told me it was. I just couldn't recognize anything that was going on. The images moved too fast, and were gone before I had the chance to fully make them out. The ones I did recognize, however, began to erase themselves from my memory as quickly as they appeared in my mind.
A single thought ran through my ears. A single word. A name. Emily. My name. I had no trouble recognizing it as my own. I remembered people calling me Emily, but not who or when. I didn't remember anything.
"Emily," I repeated the name out loud. My voice was hoarse, scratchy, as if it hadn't been used in years. It sounded odd coming from my mouth, laced with a slight accent. An accent that I couldn't pinpoint the origin of.
I suddenly felt my eyes beginning to droop, and realized that they weren't closed after all. A sudden wave of confusion and dissiness came over me. I struggled for breath, feeling as if my lungs were filled with water. And then it all cleared. As if it never even happened, I was back to normal. My breathing was still heavy with fear, my mind empty.
My mind. Was it even my mind? Or was I in someone else's body, controlling them. Possessing them. The knees that I held clutched to my chest, trembling in fear- were they even my knees? My. Me. I. Who was I? That single question ran through my mind, desperately searching for answers. But it found none.
Amnesia.
That's the first thing I thought of. I remembered learning it in school, but not when or by whom. It frustrated me, to the point where I was ready for pull all of my hair out.
Suddenly, as if some light was being turned on, my vision adjusted to the darkness. I realized that I was in a room with four walls, four corners. It wasn't that big, perhaps 15 feet squared. Possibly smaller.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice echoing off the metal walls. A small surge of hope rushed through me as I dumbly waited for a reply, hoping that someone, anyone, was in this lift with me. But the deathly silence that followed my call lead me to believe that I was alone in this place.
A prison. Was this a prison? Was I sent here for a reason? Did I do something so unbelievable ,so horrible, that this was the only solution?
I was shaking. Shaking so hard that the metal walls that I was pressed against vibrated under my skin. I could hear my heart beating inside my head at an impossible rate, and I knew it was because I was afraid.
I was so afraid. Afraid of my fate. Afraid of who I was. What I was. Afraid of what I could've possibly done to deserve to be put here. I was so afraid that I wanted to scream. Though I kept silent, knowing how useless it would be to scream my throat raw, when I knew no one could hear me.
I began to feel around, feeling a sudden surge of curiosity. The dim light that seemed to come from nowhere, and everywhere all at once, cast shadows upon many different crates. Crates of all sizes, stacked on top of each other. Squinting, I realized that each box was labled with the same words: WICKED.
WICKED. I thought about it for a moment, where I heard the horrible word before, when the ear-screeching sound of metal scraping against metal filled my ears. I brought my hands to my head, struggling to drown out the noise that I was sure would make me go deaf.
I buried my head into my lap as the sound began to diminish. I began to feel the hot stickiness of tears fall down my cheeks. I didn't know why I was crying. I didn't even know who I was, so why was I crying? Though I let the tears fall, and before I knew it, I was shaking. Sobbing.
Hours passed. Or maybe it had only been minutes. A few long, dreadful minutes before the elavator rattled to a stop. I lifted my head and waited for something to happen. Anything. But nothing happened. I sat in darkness- the light had slowly dimmed away over time- and just waited.
A loud scraping sound filled my ears, followed by a bright, flourescent light that filled the elevator. My hands found their way to my eyes, shielding them from the blinding light.
I realized then that it was an opening, only about a foot wide, in the ceiling of the lift. It gradually began to grow, the sound of metal against metal echoing through the room every time it moved.
I wanted to look up, to see what was happening above me, but something stopped me. Maybe it was fear. But whatever brought the source of the light, a bunch of voices followed it.