The Girl With Tattoos • Original Version

The Girl With Tattoos (44)

TRIGGER WARNING: claustrophobia and panic attacks

Also, a quick yet important question to the little bunch of you - if I were to make a social media account, most likely Instagram or maybe even a twitter, would you follow me? It would be for stuff like announcing updates, new stories, sneak peaks and other shit authors post.

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The laughter rang through the hall and echoed off the walls of my hallow cell. It seared through my mind as a cold shiver ran across my body and the light chill of fear replaced any thoughts from before.

"I forgot you even had the ability to laugh." The voice said with a sharp chuckle. His mocking tone caught me off guard as his bone-achingly deep pitch resonated throughout my core. "It's kind of refreshing to know you still have a soul inside of you since you act as though you have nothing but an endless darkness replacing it."

What does that even mean?

Footsteps soon followed his words, flowing through the hallway once again. Each second, one more slow and menacing step after another. Back and forth it slapped me in the face. The tiny room I was locked in relocated the sound straight into my ears as it entered from the iron bars and inside. It didn't stop as it reached the end of the long and narrow hall, turning and bending down as far as the hall stretched.

"Do you even realize how long I've been waiting for this moment?" He asked, slowly drawing out each word and making a deliberate click on each vowel to exaggerate his comment. I tried to match a face to his oddly familiar tone and when nothing but blankness entered my mind, I scrunched my hand into a tight fist and yanked a sharp tug against the chains. It did everything except break as it rattled and overpowered the thumping of his heavy steps. His laugh returned as another shiver ran down my spine.

"You should've known better. little one."

Finally, after several minutes of excruciating slow seconds, his footsteps stopped and I strained my ears to hear something, practically anything, from down the hall. When nothing happened and nothing spoke up, I leaned helplessly against the cool wall and felt the concrete rub awkwardly against my hair.

Seconds ticked by even slower this time around, each drag poking a new ident into my brain. Each silent minute and each depressing thump of my heart sucked me deeper into a false reality. Every drop from the corner and rush of wind from the permanently open window caused a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins that never stopped circulating.

Then it happened: the click of a door opening and closing shut, the slam making me jump slightly as my ears adjusted to the new sound.

Hushed voices whispered close by but no matter how hard I strained to listen in, I only caught bits and pieces of phrases.

"You here," another voice I couldn't match said with a much smoother tone, which greatly contrasted the rigid one of the original.

"Course... else be."

Clicking my teeth, I morphed my face and scrunched my eyes as if it would help me figure out what they were talking about. The endless whispers and loose words strung into meaningless sentences of, "Yea... to I could talk," and, "Okay... hope works."

Then the door slammed shut after a minute of useless information and the silence that gnawed at my sanity returned.

I could feel the blood rush through my skin and into my cheeks. The humidity of the room finally dawned on me as the sweat beaded down my forehead and dripped off into tiny puddles on the ground. My breath started to turn into irregular pants and the skin tight jeans that were now ripped and stained clung even closer to my skin as the heat entered my senses. Claustrophobia set in as I started to think about my situation: tight locks around my neck and wrists rubbing against my skin as though it was mocking me. The pants from before quickly evolved into desperate attempts of sucking in any amount of air I could but nothing seemed to enter. My mind shut off as it overthought everything surrounding me and focused in on the only thing I was worried about at that moment.

His hands closed in on me, hot breath fanning my nose. Firm restraints fastened me to the bed as his beady eyes zeroed in onto my fearful expression. His stinging words, that cut into more than any knife could, ate away at the walls I was started to build around me. Tugging, yanking, twisting, pulling: anything to get me out of the situation.

But nothing worked.

I stayed there, crying until he was knocked out from exhaustion, screaming til my throat burned and jerking at the strong fabric until my wrists bled.

But nothing worked.

Banging at the door startling my fright, crickets from the night trying to calm my restless nerves and unknowable sounds from outside bringing me back from my unattainable reality.

I knew none of this was real, it was all in my mind, a time in my life where these things were, in fact, my reality. I was diving headfirst into a pool of vivid memories and there was no lifeguard on duty to stop me from drowning.

Stop. Snap out of it. It's not real.

But it was. I remembered all of it. All those times I laid in bed, strapped weakly to an old headboard with nothing but the snoring of an old man who just passed out after abusing his daughter to keep me company. All those times I had nothing better to do with my time but tug hopelessly at the things holding me captive with no sign of it ever snapping. Every day where I had to mature little by little to stop myself from breaking more. Every second I got reminded of my mom, the life I lived before and my brother who was just as useless as I was locked out of the room I was confided in.

Claustrophobia suffocated me more than the actual memories themselves. The feeling of nothing between you and something you hated, torturing your skin and squeezing your insides into nothing but pain and anguish and leaving the hope of it finally stopping. The emotional torment of not being to move and leave, when the doorknob was right there. The utter chaos that was raging in your mind as you sat there, imagining the walls caving in on you and squishing every hope, every dream, every pain, and every war that you ever thought of, felt and imagined.

And those thoughts kept me alive yet dead when nothing but an endless supply of mystery and dread washed over me as the footsteps finally reemerged from the darkness.