1: Self-Administered Murder

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The first thing I remember saying was "where are you now?".

It was whispered on the cool floor, and the words rose up off its watery sheen. The throbbing in my head grew heavier as I blinked, opening my eyes to a flaring brightness that faded into dull darkness. Lifting my gaze, my eyes were drawn upwards to a dribble of blackened blood running down a faded wall and across the dark corpse of a headless man. His torso leaned up against the wall like a ragdoll.

He's dead, I thought. What happened here?

One of my legs felt intensely numb as I pushed my body off the floor. I suddenly toppled over and my head hit the tiles, momentarily blinding me.

When my vision slowly became clearer, I got up again clumsily and leaned on the wall, closing my eyes again and taking rough, shallow breaths. The air was heavy and stale and smelt of saltwater.

Once my eyes opened sleepily, I glanced around the dark room. It looked strange to me, like I had never seen it before in my life. The checkerboard tiles were swept with glistening blood. Papers were strewn about a rotting desk, drifting onto the floor and the pitiful chair that stood crooked by it. A few photographs had been tacked up to the wallpaper above the desk, near to the ceiling, which was rather high. Being only seven, I wasn't nearly the tallest in stature, but I could tell that the room stretched to perhaps three times my height.

My head dropped to my shoulder as I let my eyelids droop, exhausted. Suddenly, I noticed something in the corner of the bleak room, and I dragged myself along the wall towards it.

It was a small porthole. Soft light wafted through the grimy surface and onto a puddle on the floor. Gazing through it, I nearly stumbled over in alarm, but I clutched onto the rim of the porthole.

What I saw was the ocean.

Of course, you're not surprised. You might even say that you'd be damned if I looked through a porthole onto the desert. Yes, I saw the ocean. I saw the fish wade past, the tide rolling along, the sway of the fractured light. But, I also saw something curiouser than that, much curiouser.

Buildings.

Skyscrapers stabbed into the ocean like mountains, looming over the small room I hid in. Fluorescent signs glowed with words of glamour and decorated the stark architecture of the city. The cold, black surface of the buildings jutted out from the sea floor far below.

Stunned, I turned to walk towards the desk, but fell to the side and onto the vile corpse that leant up against the wall. I rolled off with disgust and attempted to wipe away the blood that had sunken through the fabric of my skirt.

What was that? Has walking always been this difficult?

I sat up and examined my legs curiously. The right leg was fine. It didn't feel numb, but had a few scratches across it and holes ripped through the stocking. The left leg, though...I can't exactly say it was in worse shape. Actually, whatever numbness I felt there I soon realised was more a feeling of absence. This, because my left leg was not there.

...What?

Upon further inspection, I saw that it had been amputated and severed off cleanly at the thigh, bandaged neatly with some cheap, bloodied cloth. I prodded the wound as if it would swell up or sink in. It didn't, of course. But I couldn't shake the feeling of nervous discontent it gave me.

Once I dragged myself up from the floor again, leaning against the cold wall, I observed my underwater dungeon in hope of some sort of crutch. There wasn't much there, until I caught sight of the rotting desk. The lip of the desk looked as if it was slowly ripping away.

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