Do You Want Some Water?

One time, all of my siblings had gone to my dad’s house, and it was just me and my mom. It was pretty late at night, almost 12:00 at night on a Friday. I was settled into bed, probably on the internet, when I hear a very faint voice coming from the living room.

At this point I immediately switch into survival mode, and very quietly make my way to the living room, which is only a short distance from my room. My heart is pounding in my head as I slowly open the door to the living room slightly, and peer out into the semi darkness to see if I can see anyone.

Nobody out there.

I still feel a little nervous.

The room is illuminated by the television that someone had left on, and as I slip into the room to go and turn it off, I hear the voice again, very faintly.

It sounds oddly familiar.

So I call out: “Is anybody there?” Hoping to get a response from my mother, perhaps beckoning me from her bedroom. But then I hear in response, very distinctly this time, the voice again: “It’s-a me, Mario!” 

Somebody had left the Wii on, after playing a video game, and it was just the main menu voices talking. 

I didn’t get murdered. 

I know I do not have much time until I pass out from the blood loss. my vision is shifting and convulsing, and I feel the world slipping from beneath my feet. My hands grasp for the walls and I feel my heart begin to race. I stumble into a gurney and slip, I fall for what feels like forever and then I land on my back in a pile of old blood. I can smell the stench of decaying flesh and feel the irritated buzz and hiss of insects and vultures as they whisper in my ear. I feel a rush of cold air and then fingers on my back, hushed voices, and someone pulls me up and straps be down into a wheel chair. I do not see the hands that bind me, nor see the faces of those who try to calm me down, but I do feel their cold, gloved hands groping at my skin, their touch clinical and stricken, careful and concealing. I see bright lights flashing as I am wheeled down twisting hallways and worried calls. finally the spinning stops and they lay me into a bed, I can see the lips and teeth of my captors as they speak words but all I hear is screams. I try to move, to escape, to scream, to get away, but I am helpless under the inhuman strength and grip of those who seek to bring about my inevitable demise.

I hear a ticking, beeping, a chirp, a rattle, a distant roar, and hiss, and then something sharp is stabbed into my arm. I hear more voices, I sense alarm, panic, feigned control, I feel a sting in my chest then more screams, I feel my ears begin to melt and my eyes seem to bleed with boiling tears. People are grabbing at my arms and at last I hear an intelligible word: “water” Perhaps I imagined it, though I’m pretty sure it was me who said it. if I did, I should chastise myself for my inherent lack of creativity in wasting the last breath that passed my lips to utter such an insignificant word, but I said it, and i had not the strength to protest, as I felt the tearing sensation of my soul or whatever it was leaving me, and i felt it fighting, fighting to stay, and it held fast, digging in it’s heels and tightening it’s grip to the point that I felt my very being begin to shake and cough and slip…

Then suddenly my eyes were flung open like drapes, and sunlight poured in uninvited but welcomed, and I felt my soul loosen its grip and curl up and settle down like a orphan puppy who just found a home…

she walked across the vast snow covered field as the snow fell soundlessly, feeling small and vulnerable, as she usually did- a simple medic she was, with no gun or weapon. she is dressed in a dirt-brown woolen hat, gloves, and an old, ratty jacket that looked at least 3 sizes too big, as it extended far below her thigh, almost to her kneecaps. the sleeves had to be rolled up quite a few times, just so that her hands were visible, and able to be used quickly. just below the hem of her jacket, you could just see the frayed threads of a blue skirt, and black stockings. She walked briskly, but cautiously, her blue eyes darting from side to side with accute alertness, hyper-aware of every snap and crackle her boots made as they crunched into unseen twigs and rocks beneath the deepening layers of winter snow.

 all she could hear was the sound of her shallow, frozen breaths, and the hardened snow crunching below her feet. there was a faint whistle of wind as it blew through the circle of forest surrounding the clearing, and a cold shill shuddered through her body. she looked up and saw a small shredded ribbon of red tape warped hastily around one of  the branches of a tree just ahead, signaling the path to the safety of the fort. she breathed a relieved sigh and held her med kit close to her and trudges on, not daring look back, for fear of catching a fleeting glance of one of them.

she knows she’s close to the safety of the trees, and yet every step seems to take her further away from the path. Suddenly there is a change. Something has shifted, something has moved. A person. she slows her pace and listens carefully, trying to control her breathing-to keep it steady and consistent- and resist the urge to bolt for the woods. A snap of a twig. Not too far behind her. She tries to remain calm, steady her breathing, but the small crunches of footsteps draw steadily nearer, gaining slight speed, like a cat stalking it’s unwitting prey. 

Only a few more yards to the woods. A few more steps to safety.

She realizes her breath had gone ragged and strained, and she began to panic, sure that whoever it was who was behind her had heard her shallow, terrified breathing and had sensed her fear and weakness. She breathed in sharply just as the person pressed something cold and metal to the back of her head. A gun.