The Nymph of my Imagination

Short Story: Forgotten

A bright light hits my eyes, forcing them open. I shield them with my hand and the sharp smell of rot clings to the grimy room. A cot sits on one side, its blankets dishevelled and stained brown and yellow. No pillow. A bucket in the corner overflows with piss and shit, the floor stained beneath it. 

Pushing to my feet, I stumble to the door, trying to peer through the dark window. My mouth is dry, my throat scratches and burns, and I try to scream but no sound escapes. Flickering lights illuminate the hallway. I can barely make out other doors lining the walls, identical to mine.

Where am l?

My mind feels clouded, my memories locked behind a gray haze. I remember walking… footsteps... then the smell of burning. Flashes of being dragged, my limbs too heavy to move.

My heart drums in my chest, and I try to recall more but it's a mess— a jumbled nightmare of darkness and screams.

This can't be real. Am I dreaming?

The stench of the bucket reaches me and I gag, bile rising in my throat. The sight of the cot churns my stomach, resting on it unthinkable. Adrenaline courses through me, making it impossible to sleep in this room.

A flash of movement catches my eye. I peer out the window again. Two figures in long coats approach a door down the hall. No keys, just a simple turn of the handle, and it opens. I try mine, but it won't budge. Locked from the outside. I'm trapped.

A piercing scream erupts from the room they enter. My breath catches. One steps inside while the other lingers and suddenly turns towards my door. Our eyes meet, and I crouch, heart hammering, counting the seconds. Five. Ten. Thirty. Still, no sound of footsteps coming my way.

Crawling back to the centre of the room, I notice a yellow stain where I woke. I check my pants— dry. But my clothes are torn, dishevelled, and dirty.

Who are these people? I have to get out.
Ignoring the smell, I recheck the cot. Blood stains the mattress. The coppery scent still lingers mixed with vomit. Whoever was here last left fucked up.

I pull the mattress up, hoping for something to help me escape. Nothing. A second scream, closer this time, and I freeze. I shove the cot aside and examine its metal frame. Could I break it off and use it as a weapon?

Frantically, I pull at the rods, but they don't budge. In my panic, I almost miss a raised tile near the corner of the room. I pry at it, but there's nothing underneath. Just broken ceramic.

The door bursts open.

Two men in oversized coats rush me, masks covering their faces, their eyes sunken and pale. One pulls out a syringe. I swing at him, but my limbs feel heavy and sluggish. They're too fast, too strong. My screams die as they pin me down, jabbing the needle into my neck. The burn spreads quickly, consuming me.

Everything goes black.

I can't move. My eyes are heavy, my limbs strapped down. The bright LED light forces them shut again as I try to make sense of my surroundings. Murmurs reach my ears, but I can't understand them. My tongue is thick in my mouth, choking me when I speak.

A figure steps closer, pressing something metallic against my forehead. My eyelids are pried open, and I try to scream, to thrash, but nothing works.

A sting shoots through my arm. I glance to the side just in time to see the scalpel slice my skin, peeling back the flesh.

I can feel every cut.

I realize they won't give me anything to numb the pain. A heart monitor beeps faster. My teeth clench as the agony sears through me, every nerve screaming. They don't offer comfort or even a glance of pity. They keep speaking that foreign language while I lie here, helpless.

I force myself to look at my arm, laid open. The sight of my own flesh turns my stomach. My skin is peeled back, and I see them sewing something inside me. But what? My vision blurs, and I can't hold my eyes open anymore. The pain drags me under into blackness again.

I wake up on the cot, rolling to my side just in time to puke on the floor. Disoriented, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Screams echo in the distance like they're coming from another world. My head throbs as I try to stand, but my legs buckle, and I collapse to the floor, barely missing the puddle of vomit.

I need to get out of here.

Crawling, I drag myself toward the corner, where a plate and cup sit. The bread is mouldy, rotten, and soaked from the spilled water. Desperate, I snatch up the cup, gulping it down. A second later, I gag. Something wriggles in my mouth. Maggots.

I spit the water out, flinging the cup across the room. It crashes into the floor, dislodging the broken tile. My eyes narrow on it. I crawl over, picking it up. The edge feels sharp. An idea begins to form.

I pound on the door, shouting for them. It doesn't take long before the two from earlier arrive, their footsteps heavy. As soon as the door cracks open, I lunge, but the nearest one slams me down to the ground before I can raise my fist. The impact knocks the wind from my lungs.

Before I can recover, they grab me by the feet, dragging me down the hall. I reach for the doorframe, nails scraping against it, but it's useless. I'm too weak.

As I'm hauled away, I catch a glimpse of the door. It's not entirely shut. The tile I wedged in is keeping it from locking.

Being dragged, not drugged, I can hear more of my surroundings. Groans, moans, and screams echo from different rooms. As doors open, I catch glimpses of people on tables, pleading to be freed as they're cut open, begging for the pain to stop. Seeing an instrument being pressed into someone's eye socket, I wrench my gaze away, fighting the bile rising in my throat.

Another door opens as I'm pulled past, and something animalistic screeches, crawling for the threshold. Its hunched back and lifeless clumps of hair make it appear as if it's barely human. Its jagged teeth and blind eyes scan the area, claws scraping across the floor. As it turns toward us, it looks almost human again, but then it lets out a blood-curdling screech and lunges. It slams into the door as it's closed, locked inside.

What the fuck was that?

My heart pounds wildly, and adrenaline surges through me. l kick out at my captors, but it's no use. Even as I manage to break free for a moment, I'm too late. The door slams shut, and they throw me toward another surgical bed. I can't endure this again.

This time, I stayed conscious, staring at the ceiling in numbness. My fingers were raw, and my nails were torn off one by one. Now, I can't see out of one eye; it burns from whatever they dropped into it while they took notes, oblivious to my sobs. The worst part was when they started taking my measurements. After all the cutting and muttering, they calmly measured my body like an experiment. And then, they seemed satisfied before dumping me in my cell.

I force myself to stand on shaking legs, even as my thigh tugs painfully where they've sewn something into the muscle. Each step makes it worse, but I can't stop. Peering out the small window, l try to guess where they might be. I have no clue which way to go, but I take my chances. Slowly, I open the door and retrieve the broken ceramic piece I'd hidden earlier. I dash down the hallway, ignoring the tortured screams from the rooms around me.

I skid to a stop and drop flat on my stomach as I reach a hallway with open doors. One of the creatures is sniffing the air, shuffling closer. I crawl into a dark room and shut the door behind me, using the tile piece to wedge it closed. My heart races. In the shadows, I hear a gasp.

A teenage girl hides in the corner, her face barely visible in the dim light.

"Get me out of here," she whispers, her breath shaky and panicked. I wait until the creature passes before opening the door.

"If you come with me, stay silent and follow closely," I warn her. Without waiting for her reply, I move, half-expecting her to lag behind and become bait for the thing in the hallway. But she sticks with me.

As we reach a dim exit sign, my heart leaps with hope. But a half-open automatic door blocks the way, its panels stuck in the wall. The button to open it is on the other side, and I'm too large to fit through the gap. I look back at the girl, relieved she's still there.

"You need to squeeze through and push the button," I say, pointing.

She hesitates, fears clear in her eyes, but she forces herself to move. She twists through the small opening, fingers stretching for the button just beyond her reach.

The panels start to close around her. She screams, and a spray of blood erupts before the metal panels slam shut.

When the door opens again, all that's left of her is blood and pieces of flesh still clinging to the panels. I don't have time to process. Something moves down the hall, and I shove myself through the gap, now opened just wide enough to fit, feeling the slimy remnants of her on my bare skin as I squeeze past. Gritting my teeth, I press on, running toward the next door.

I stumble into a pressurized room, panting as I look out the window. White, cloudy shapes drift by, and suddenly, a terrifying realization hits me: I'm at the bottom of the ocean. Something swims past— a massive, glowing angler fish. I back away, feeling the room closing in on me.
There's no escape.

I tug at my clothes, panic setting in as everything feels too tight. My breathing is ragged, the weight of my situation unbearable. But then footsteps approach, and I whirl around.

My fists drop when I see him. "What are you doing here? Did they take you too?" I ask, barely whispering; my voice is shaky as I take in his familiar features. Memories flicker— shared laughter at parties and late-night hangouts, but it feels like watching someone else's life.

He doesn't respond. His angled jaw and thin frame seem recognizable, but something is off. His eyes—they're not the same. They're dull, sunken in, not the vibrant green I remember. His hair lacks the life it once had.

He grabs my jaw, his grip tightening painfully.
"I don't know how you remember me when you shouldn't even remember yourself," he growls, his voice animalistic, raw.

His words hit me harder than the sting of another needle in my neck. A mixture of confusion and betrayal of who he is now? Was he a friend or something more inhuman now?

"Remember who I am?" I try to say, but the darkness creeps in as the drug takes hold, pulling me under.

Who am I? What's my name?

I rack my brain, but no memories come to me; then all fades to black.