In-Sanity

Melanie Yanes copyright (c)

Chapter 1: Quarantine.

I wouldn't have realized my faint existence in this room if it weren't for the fact that my breathing wasn't silent, or the drops from my sweat were indeed trailing down my skin in scorching blobs. Neither would have it been necessary, seeing as the frequent thump in my chest echoed on into this dreary room, not speeding nor slowing. How silly it would be to assume I was dead. What a gift.

I couldn't handle my body quite as well, though. My arms and shoulders were stiff and hard, wrapped around my numb legs that were folded up into my chest. At this point I would have to check every so often to see if they were still attached. Silly me. I knew myself well enough to realize I was overreacting as a reflex to the confinement. Other than the stiffness, my body felt fine. No pains, no gashes, scratches, bruises... none that I could remember, anyway. I checked myself once, taking the effort to wipe the sweat off my neck. I sighed. As if the blankness of the room wasn't enough, it had to be scorching hot. New beads of sweat replaced the old ones in seconds.

Gees, these people really knew how to drive somebody crazy! Sticking you in a simple for-walled room, blank and colorless, your only company narrowed between your thoughts and your thumper. I originally wouldn't have thought much of it, but seeing as I'm witnessing it hands-on, I realize I underestimated its capabilities. I threw around several ideas, but had them thrown right back. I was losing it. Get yourself together. Don't make me slap you! I winced.

The walls were dark and windowless, my only supply of oxygen coming from seven small holes on the lower left corner of the wall in front of me. I eyed them, counting the holes—my life supply—over and over. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. One, two…BANG.

Someone had plugged one of the holes. The light that had shown through the seven circles now shorted to six. I heard someone mutter something that sounded like, "...minus one more,"

I shrugged mentally, though physically I wanted to try my strength at stretching the openings with bare hands—and feet, if necessary—wide enough for my escape. The madness in my mind was so strong I couldn't grasp it right away. I sorted my thoughts out in my mind calmly. Did I honestly think just now that I could stretch metal, let alone move? I reached for an itchy part of my shoulder, and felt the stiffness, quickly giving up as if in response to my own question. Was this heat making me desperate? I considered that for a moment. I had long but removed my socks and shoes a while ago, overwhelmed by my radiating body heat. All I had left on were a pair of dark gray shorts and my button down white collar shirt I'd been wearing for the past two days. The long sleeves were rolled up, but it didn't help much.

My sweat now was trickling down my neck softly, tickling my skin. I didn't even bother to wipe it off. Then I dozed off into the depths of my thoughts, rather into the depths of this room.

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