With This Life I Hold

Chapter 1 || The Unknown

What is this?

You try to twist and turn in the uncomfortable sheets when you suddenly feel a dull ache in the crook of your neck where a pillow is supposed to be. Giving a deep, annoyed groan, you kick your covers off with a violent jolt. You can already feel your hair sticking to your face as the beads of sweat trickle down your back.

You wake up confused, unaware of the date and time. It was that kind of nap, drifting you off to several hours later, forcing yourself into that headspace where you've now forgotten where you are and what time it is.

There is no trace of any light besides a dimly lit candle in the corner of your room.

You assume, at least.

Your vision is still blurry and groggy. No matter how many times you blink it's almost like there's a sheen cover over your eyelids. The exhaustion is threatening to overtake you and lure you back and it honestly feels like it's where you belong.

But this bed is too damn uncomfortable.

There's a pounding in your head and you cradle it in your hand before standing up from the creaky bed you've knocked out on. Your balance teeters and sends you toppling against the wall. Luckily, your reflexes save you and your hand grips the barely tangible, grainy wall. A small breath of relief leaves your chapped lips.

You don't... remember. Anything.

Your fingers slowly dig lightly into the strange material of the wall that seems to have replaced the wall of your bedroom. The smooth drywall has now transformed into an odd, grainy, stone barrier.

A look of confusion crosses over your features.

You rub your eyes and take in your surroundings with a choking gasp.

The dark space is adorned with a small twin-sized wooden bed, a desk, chair, and a small bedside table holding books and papers that you can't read the writing of. A couple of burnt out candles are scattered here and there, adding into the mess.

Your eyes are pulled to the hand still gripped against the wall for support and you don't recognize putting on the white cuffed sleeve that's fitting your arm. You glance down your body and see leather straps crossing over your limbs, down the sides of your abdomen and across the upper portion of your chest.

You see through blurry eyes the leather strap across your chest tighten with the beats of your breaths and bring a hand to your heart, splaying your fingers across the fabric.

Trying to calm your hyperventilation, You take deep breaths but it doesn't stop the tears falling down your cheek, puddling at the tip of your chin. Your heart is racing.

You thought...

You thought you had just been in your room just now.

You shut your eyes tight, straining to remember your last few memories.

Your mind flits wildly from the thought of being kidnapped to waking up from a long-life coma.

...The limits to your overthinking holds no bounds.

The last thing you remember is that you had finished a new level of this game you'd been playing for hours to complete. You never really spent too much time on them since the demands of being a college student with financial problems were constantly breathing down your back. But after your best friend had carelessly handed down the obnoxious game into your hands, grumbling about the fact how he hated it, you made a bet against him. Unfortunately, because of your blinding stupor combined with your incessant dedication, you bet that if you were to beat the game, then he would have to buy every meal you wanted for a whole two weeks.