Light. What a stupid invention. Didn't they know you only wanted to sleep? They? You try to discern who they is. You have no recollection. Only one thought pervades. 238. Seems like an important number. Why? You don't really know. All you do know is that the light needs to go away. As you begin to drift off, a snake-like voice pulls you back to consciousness.
'Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up. We've been waiting, you know. I had this dream last night that I've just been dying to share with you,' the voice hisses. The identity of the owner escapes you, but something makes you want to listen. Or cringe in fear. You're not really sure which yet. Without compromising your state of alert, you listen intently to the snake.
'Why so…sleepy? Beauty sleep never did help you before; definitely won't now. Never mind your tardiness, about me now. In my dream the world was suffering a terrible, awful disaster. A black haze shut out the sun, and the darkness was alive with the moans and screams of wounded people. But suddenly, I saw a small light glowing in the distance. A candle flickering into life; a symbol of hope for millions. A single tiny candle, shining in the ugly dark. So I laughed and blew it out,' the voice ended. And cue the hideous cackle.
You're almost sure you've never heard anything more repulsive; and yet, absolutely sure you've heard this screeching before. While you deliberate this knowledge, the springs and fabric they call a bed groan underneath your weight. The sudden foreign noise makes you acutely aware of the fact that you have yet to open your eyes, giving birth to one imperative realization. Where are you?
The obscenely bright light and hissing laughter give you no clues. Against your limited better judgment you open your eyes. White. Did you open them? You try again. Same result. What's that saying about insanity? You don't recall. Third time's the charm, right? Glancing down, you now know one thing: You are staring at a wall. The floor under your…bed looks white. Looks can be deceiving, though. You see lines. Many, many lines. Somehow, you know exactly how many.
238. 238 days. Comprehension dawns in your hazy mind. You thought your execution would come sooner. Apparently you thought wrong. You briefly wonder if your current predicament could be considered cruel or unusual. Guess it depends on who you ask.
Against even less judgment you turn over to face the snake.
'Oh, goodie. You're awake.' Pressed against the newly added wall of Plexiglas, for whose protection you're not entirely sure, stands your…roommate. 'I was worried you'd missed my little story.'
You stare, finding yourself unable to look away. It's strange, really. While the voice incited fear, the face? Scowling eyes and inhuman grin stretched over that forked tongue. Quite the oxymoron. Your judgment now non-existent, you laugh. What a sight you must be.
This only furthers to turn the scowl into a glare, fueling your own hysterics. The absurdity of it all triggers one final pervading thought, which you have no desire to keep to yourself.
'Why so serious?'