Harly

Chapter Nine (Edited 08/2021)

Wherever I was, it was dark.

And I don't mean "four in the morning, moonlight streaming through your window" dark. I mean pitch black. I couldn't see anything, not even my own arms that I stretched out before me so I could blindly stumble through the void.

I called out, but my voice couldn't be heard. This place was devoid of light, devoid of sound. It was like I had fallen into a black hole and hadn't been completely destroyed. Just wandering through this bleak nothingness with no destination in mind.

I couldn't even tell you how long I was there. After a while, I started to question if I was even real. My arms were still outstretched— or were they? The darkness was beginning to play tricks on my mind. My legs were still moving, I think, carrying me to no specific destination. It felt like I had been here for years. No sound, no light. I stopped having the ability to feel. My thoughts were scattered now, having no voice to express them. I was becoming nothingness too.

My breathing hitched, a panic attack coming on. There was no sound, of course, but I could briefly feel my chest tightening, my throat closing up. My mind's frantic thoughts taking a turn for the worse.

And then suddenly— Light.

My arms were still held out, as if I were falling. But I was standing upright in a room now. The walls were white. A bed to my left, another to my right. It was familiar, and despite coming from an actual void, I wasn't happy to see it.

I let my arms fall to my sides, the familiar sounds of indistinct chatter coming from down the hall. The window let the sunshine pouring into the room, attempting to show the cheeriness the staff so desperately tried to give. But this room was empty of happiness.

This was my hospital room.

I looked down at my arms, my eyes soaking in every detail since it had been deprived of it only moments earlier. There were bandages wrapped around the entirety of my forearms, a grim reminder of why I was here. They almost blended into the drab color of the sweats and beat up tee shirt I wore.

When you've been in a place like this for as long as I have, you stop caring about how you look.

"But why? I whispered, taking in the room once more. "I was out." Even I could tell how miserable I sounded. I looked down again at my clothes, rubbing my palms over the sweats material. It really was the hospital.

Why had I thought I got out? I had no memory of anything other than this hospital. I turned and looked at the door. It was open.

I stepped out into the hallway, looking to see who was on patrol today. Oddly enough, no one was near. I figured they were in the common room, so I started walking that way, passing a row of doors. 142. 144. 146. On and on I counted. 188, 142, 144.

I paused. I looked at the door next to me. 146. I looked beyond it, to the doors I passed. Had I not just walked past these? My room was 140. Thinking I had imagined it, I began walking again, only stopping when I confirmed my suspicions.

I was once again standing next to room 142.

"What is going on?" I muttered, fear starting to slip in. I took off running, knowing if I was caught I would be reprimanded. But that would be a blessing, it would mean I was free from this awful maze.

I ran and ran, passing the repeating numbers. A never ending hallway of doors. As I ran, it began to twist and turn, making the hallway a kaleidoscope of doors and windows.

I finally stopped running, my lungs struggling to keep up with the movement I had been doing. A choked sob escaped. "Why can't I get out?" I wailed, sliding into a seated position on the floor, next to room 142.