Brainwashed

Rats

"That will be fifteen dollars," The man said with a thick Persian accent.

For half an egg sandwich? I was about to say. I opened my mouth but my tongue felt stiff. I remembered when I was seven I went to a nail salon with my mom. About twenty minutes later, I proudly showed my mom my bubblegum pink nails. She gasped. "Ava!" She cried. "What is this?"

I recalled the horrible twist in my stomach as my heart dropped like a stone.

"This is horrible!" My mother criticized. "Why didn't you say anything?" She looked at my newly painted fingers with disgust, as if she was studying a dissected frog. We went back inside the salon.

"Now go tell that lady over there to redo your nails, Ava." My mother ordered.

I gradually lifted my shaking legs. After a somewhat encouraging push from my mother, I finally made my way in front of the desk. The lady, who was eyeing herself in the mirror, began pulling out a bright red lipstick out of her leopard striped purse. "Hm?" She said without glancing in my direction. "M-my Mommy said that-that..." Both my mother and the lady were staring at me intensely while my lip began to tremble. The lady continued dabbing on an unnecessary amount of neon red lipstick. Then, after a few seconds, I burst into tears.

"Are you going to purchase?" The man asked crossly.

"N-no, I'll find something else." I mumbled.

I shuffled into the freezing aisles in the grocery store. I sighed with disappointment as I gazed over the measly seeming ten dollar bill in my pocket that I had to live on. I grabbed three power bars off the shelf and started towards the cashier.

I froze. My hands were vibrating and my legs wobbled. Everything was in a blur. Except for one thing. The cashier. He looked up at me, confused. He is a problem. He must be removed. I tore a metal bar off of the shelf and ran at him with almost super speed.

My eyes flew open. I was standing in front of the counter, but no one was there. I pulled myself up and looked over the counter. The cashier was sprawled across the floor. His face was bruised and bloody.

He was dead.

I looked around, extremely panicked.

Ding!

A bulky, middle aged, woman waddled through the automatic doors. She walked straight into the first aisle, gardening. I scanned the department store. I spotted an emergency fire exit at the end of the snack aisle. I grabbed a plastic bag from the counter and pushed in nearly half the shelf into the bag, then sprinted to the emergency exit.

An alarm went off as I stumbled blindly out into the streets. My head was pounding with hysteria. I heard the woman gasp loudly as I darted down an alley. Two disgruntled cats with patches of grey and orange hair hissed at me from atop a trash can when a large black rat with piercing red eyes bolted between my feet. I screamed and hopped back. It responded with a high pitched shriek. I turned to run but about ten other identical black rats scuffled out of the shadows.

"Oh God" I moaned. "Please, no."

One of them leaped onto my foot and clawed at it, trying to climb me.

I shook my leg frantically. The rat was flung to the wall. The rat, along with the three around it, retreated to the darkness. Another rat crawled up my leg, up my back, and onto my shoulder. Before I even realized the rat was there, it sank its cold, sharp teeth into my neck.