I open my eyes and find that I am running. I can’t seem to grasp reality, my mind seems to be completely devoid of it. Where am I running to? The question floats around my head meaninglessly, and I feel confused. Footsteps behind me. Someone’s chasing me. My body wants to slow down, feeling slow and tired, but my brain won’t let it. Dizziness captures me. I blink hard, to try and control the horrid feeling, but I can’t. I collapse onto the ground, finished. The voices in my head are screaming at me to keep running, but it’s physically impossible. I can’t breathe. My body refuses to move. I gasp for air. Tears spill over my lashes for what I think might be the last moment of my life. “Please,” I beg, “Please don’t let this be the end of me.” And those were my final words when the darkness enveloped me.
I woke in a strange white room. Nothing seemed to fit into place, until one of the voices whispered, “It was a dream, nothing more.” But that white room wasn’t mine. The air seemed stale. Another voice whispered the obvious. It told me that I was in trouble. I figured that out myself when an odd, hooded man crept in. He seemed bizarrely out of place in the white room with his black cloak. He drew closer and seemed to gesture for me to follow him. I didn’t have much of a choice, so I followed. I noticed he must have been carrying something under his cloak. A weapon maybe? He led me through passages that looked like they hadn’t been used for years. There were cobwebs cowering in the corners and candelabras dimly lit the dark, enclosed space. About halfway through the passage, I began to feel claustrophobic. The walls seemed to be moving in towards me. Tears threatened to spill, but the voices told me not to cry in front of this man. When finally, we reached the end, I saw yet another dimly lit room. It was hexagonal with the same eerie candelabras as in the corridors. Besides its bizarre shape, there was a strange platform in the middle. The man forced me onto it and drew out what looked like a whip. My eyes widened in terror. He was going to whip me to death. The first lash was unexpected. I stifled a cry. Then the man spoke for the first time since he came into the white room. “Menaces like you must be destroyed. It isn’t normal for several people to share one body.” I then understood his motives. He was going to kill me because I was different, because I heard voices. The whip lashed me again, and again, yet still I refused to cry. It beat on me till blood spilled, and I thought I was going to faint. I cried for mercy, yet he kept on whipping. Tears finally spilled and I collapsed into a heap on the ground. I sobbed and sobbed for the last few minutes of my life, and suddenly, desperately, I just wanted to die, wanted the pain to end. I only had a little life left. Just a few more seconds, a few more lashes. I took my final breath and welcomed death in. I gave up fighting and then darkness clamped over my exhausted mind.
This entry was posted on August 13, 2012 at 7:04 am and is filed under Sad Stories, Stories with tags claustrophobia, dark, Death, die, dying, head, hear, Pain, schizophrenic, voice. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.