It's sad how the good always get the bad end of the stick. Jason Waterston awoke to the sound of beeping. Without moving or opening his eyes, Jason started to talk to himself. "Damn, why is it that I always wake up sore and my ass feeling like it's been beaten with a bat everytime I come home from Jessica's?" "Fuckin phone, always running out of batteies" he said noting the beeping sound which stopped seconds after awakening. Then Jason began to really wake up and start feeling around him. Instantly he knew he wasn't laying between the soft sheets of his comfortable suburban home. Jason's eyes snapped open quick as lightning. What he saw was the same thing he had seen with his eyes closed. Pure darkness.
Jason's breath started to increase in speed as he began becoming more aware of his surroundings. He reached up with his hands and they met what felt like warm metal only seconds after being raised. Jason tried to move his body but found he could only move a few inches to each side. It was then that he realized his was lying on his back and after that it didn't take long for him to realize where he was and then his breath more than increased slightly. Jason was lying in a metal coffin. He started to hyperventilate as he was very claustrophobic. This was his worst nightmare, waking up in the pitch dark in a coffin that was hardly big enough to hold him.
His body started to shake, punch and kick out in pure deep
terror. Jason's fists already started to bleed as they slammed into the sides of the coffin
he was encased in. Knowing he needed to calm down if he was going to get out of this, Jason
started to take some deep breaths. "Breath in... Breath out... In .. and out" he started
chanting this to himself and soon was much calmer. Jason decided to feel around him to see
if there was any other objects.
After a few seconds his hands met three things. Three small plastic sticks that were
reconizable as glowsticks. A butter knife that somehow gave Jason's figer a small cut as he
found it. "Fuck! How the hell does a goddamn butter knife cut you!" Said Jason in a scared
voice. Finally was something that was unknown to him. It seemed to be a small plastic box
with buttons on the side.
He took one of the glowsticks and snapped it, mixing the chemicals inside and creating a warm glow that lit up the box and revealed just what Jason had concluded so far. The coffin was hardly bigger than his body. He looked next to him where he had set the knife. Lying beside it was the small plastic box. Bathed in dull yellow light, it was revealed to be a black tape recorder. Taped to the recoder was a small piece of paper with the words PLAY ME written in what looked like black Sharpie. Seeing everything in the light started to scare him more, he once again began breathing heavy. Desperate to escape this sour, living nightmare, Jason hit the small PLAY button of the black tape recorder. At first nothing but low static then came on a voice that seemed to be a computer but with a human touch and gave him more chills than he already had.
"Hello Jason, You make a fantastic living as a wealthy business tycoon and you own one of the largest corporate businesses in America. Most would call you a success. Most do not know you. They do not know of your little "hobby". As you well know, since the age of 10 you have been afraid of animals. Any kind weather a harmless kitten, or mans best friend you despise them all. So you began to torture them, burning ants and killing raccoons, you had your methods. But you soon became to love one particular "method". Suffocation became mainstream for you. Seeing what it could do to living beings excited you... and scared you as well. So now I want to play a game. Hidden somewhere in this box is the key to escape it. If you look up you will see the lock. If you are not free of your confines in ten minutes the air supply that is currently keeping you alive will be shut off and... well I think you can figure out the rest. I will give you a hint. The key to enlightenment is hidden within your first tortures. Now you know the rules and more, can you experience what you put innocent animals through every day to save your own life? Let the games begin."
"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF ROTTEN SHIT? HOW THE FUCK DO YOU FUCKING KNOW ALL THAT?" Jason started to scream and pound of the ceiling of his sarcophagi. Using what little room he had, he threw the recorder as hard as he possibly could into the corner. It shattered and the voice that haunted Jason's memory died. Along with the voice, the first of three glowsticks died. Jason was plunged into total darkness. He started thinking out loud.
"Why... why the hell do I do it? Daddy it was you wasn't it... WASN'T IT?" He was starting to go insane in this unbelievably cramped and suffocating space. "Mommy wasn't good enough so you gave it to me... to me.. to .. to me." Jason's mind was starting to revert back to childhood memories.
The day's at the park when he was five. The gentle cry of his mother for his first time on the swingset. "Come on Jason! Go baby! GO! The screaming of fathers drunk ramparts. "That's right Jason, you were never good enough for mommy or me, so we threw you in there didn''t we?" DIDN"T WE YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE STAIN!" The crying, so much crying, so much blood. The blood. "Oh.. looks like mommy had a little accident didn't she?" His mothers blood running down his fathers cheeks. Then the wolf came, it ate mommy's face. Mommy no more, mommy gone. Wolf there wolf... wolf.. wolf...bad. Bad wolf! BAD!
Jason returned to the present with a rush of adrenialian. His mind was clearer, he now knew why he did it. He know had a reason to care to live. Ignoring the fact that it was pitch black and that he was running out of time, Jason began to think. "My first torture... what was it?" "Dammit, what the hell?" Then Jason slowly remembered what it was. "Oh, god no.. please god no! NO!"
Jason first torture had taken place when he was seven years old. It was to a small squirrel.
He had taken a sharp stick and repeatedly stabbed it in the throught. Over and over until
it's dead, limp body and lots of blood was all that was left. He looked to the right. He knew
what the butter knife was supposed to represent. "No..no I can't I.. I'll die. Unless. Jason
reached up to the side of the neck and felt around. His fear was confirmed as he felt a hard
lump deep below the skin. He had to... he had to! With rock hard determination, Jason
grabbed the dull blade and took a deep breath. He jammed it in. Instantly blood started
pouring from the wound. The pain was unbearable, but he pulled hard and ripped off a chunk
of flesh. Jason was now covered in and choking on his own rancid blood. After almost a full
two minutes of digging around in his own neck and hardly breathing he found it, cold and
hard, like father. Jason's vision was turning black, like the wolves eyes that day. The...
the wolves.
Jason's hand that was tightly clutching the slippery key felt to the hard metal below him. He was going to make it. But then... the air stopped. He clutched his neck and felt the warm blood pour out, while his life ended. The air, was there no more... no more air. No more mommy, mommy gone. Daddy dead, daddy crazy.
You... you gave it to me daddy.