64 days

The Beginning

The air was dry and dead, much like my throat. I reached for it, gasping, desperate for wetness. Each breath was more painful than the last; an insatiable burn that crawled its way down into my lungs. Below, I could feel my feet moving, yet I had no control over the steps I took. They moved unwillingly and uncontrollably as I trudged forward. My skin itched and crawled, as if microscopic bugs were gouging away at my flesh and burrowing into its depths. I wanted so badly to scratch away at the surface and remove the bugs from the territory which they were so insensitively trespassing, but to no avail. The bugs weren't real, and no matter how hard I scratched, my nails just couldn't break the surface. Scratch after scratch, my skin was porcelain. Scratch after scratch, a new shiver was sent rolling across my spine – so intense, it felt like electricity.

I tried to turn my attention to something different. I couldn't quite make out where I was. Everything was foggy, and dreary, and dark. Nothing but a dim light flickered in the distance laid out in front of me. Could I even make it that far? I glanced down at my bare feet. Although dark, I could faintly make out shadows that resembled bruises, and how my skin thinly stretched across the bones. I couldn't exactly tell what I was walking on, all I knew was just how cold it was, and how every step felt as if I were walking across a bed of needles.

If I couldn't see, maybe my other senses could be of better assistance. I closed my eyes, and taking a deep, painful breath, I gathered the scent that surrounded me. The sharp smell of iron - and a hint of something else, bleach, maybe - tingled my already aching lungs. What could I hear? Deafening silence. The only sounds there were to be heard were coming from myself, which included my palpitating heart, my labored breathing, and the slight thump of my feet hitting the solid ground beneath me. What could I feel? Absolutely nothing, and everything all at once. The complete and total desolation of this place I was in only made my drive to push further stronger. But, I could also feel just how weak I truly was. Every bone in my body ached, begging and screaming at me to stop moving, yet I couldn't waver.

I opened my eyes.

Something was different.

My surroundings were no longer foggy, and the darkness wasn't so chilling. It was then that I was able to recognize where I was. This was the corridor of a hospital wing - a dilapidated, abandoned, old, creepy hospital wing. Rooms lined the narrow hall, with the numbers on the doors continuing to descend as I moved forward. No, I was descending too. Nothing good could come of any of this, especially given my current state. I couldn't know where I was heading, or why I was in this place to begin with.

This stretch of hallway was endless. The light at the end of the hall, as ironic as it was, seemed to only get further away. Each passing step felt more forced and painful than the last, and I didn't know how much longer I would be able to continue. Flickering fluorescents twitched in my peripherals, glowing in and out of existence through the windows of the hospital rooms. I felt almost synonymous to the light bulbs - my time had all but passed me, yet I still trudged forward with some minuscule hope to save myself.

Something seemed to be beckoning me, other than my own subconscious, stubborn need to keep moving. The light meant freedom, release, and an end to everything horrible where I was now. I must keep moving. I have to. I have no choice. I cannot stop.

I cannot stop.

I cannot stop.

I cannot stop.

I made it.

The light was only a few more steps away. The only thing I needed to do was open the door that stood in front of me, with a glowing halo of light leaking out of it's edges, making it seem angelic. With a bony, icy grip, I twisted the doorknob and pushed it open - an action that took more effort than I cared to admit. The light flooded my vision, so bright that I had to shield my eyes that were already beginning to water.