I sat staring at the long crack in the plaster wall. It was the most interesting thing I could see. Not that I could see much from where I was at, strapped to a bed–the only piece of furniture in the otherwise empty room. The spidery splash of black against the stark whiteness held my attention captive. I followed its journey from ceiling to floor, over and over again until I grew faint with the effort it took to raise my shoulders and upper body. The strong antiseptic smell of hospital made my head ache. Even so I studied the wall intently. It was strangely enticing and foreboding at the same time. It was like a metaphor for my mind.
I was so entranced that I didn't hear the white-clad nurses coming and going in the warmish room. A fly buzzed in the light for what must have been hours until his tiny life winked out of existence. I saw nothing of the changing position of the sun through the bars on my window. The only notice I gave to the patterns of light were when they caught dust particles falling from the ceiling in front of the crack. The sparkling shower gave the crack a surreal appearance as if I were seeing it in a dream. Maybe this was all a dream. Who could tell me what my reality was? Maybe I was the crack, the dark patch on the wall watching the occurrences of the day from this lonely room. Or maybe the crack was a part of me. I stared at it again. It crawled onto the ceiling and across to the other side of the room. I observed its progress with a detached feeling bordering on dread. The crack was coming towards me. It would snatch me up regardless of the leather straps that held my wrists, abdomen, and ankles.
It was still moving towards me but now it was oozing black pus-looking fluids. One perfect teardrop fell onto the spotless floor, marring the perfect whiteness. Another fell, then two more. It dripped faster until it was raining down inky feculence, leaving a trail of squalid splashes on its way towards the bed. As it drew closer I struggled against my bonds. It's going to get me, I thought; I knew it would.
The liquid was no longer black but deep crimson and it was right above me now. I could feel the warm wet spots where the droplets landed. Hot air rushed out of it like it was a living, breathing entity. With each burst of air the pungent scent of blood invaded my nose. The crack opened up even wider and the dripping turned into a torrential downpour. I thrashed harder against the bed, trying to escape the grisly maw above me. Screaming, I finally managed to loose one wrist but it wasn't enough. The blood covered me and filled my nose and throat. I was choking and wailing and not a soul came to my rescue. I continued to thrash but the room started to fade from my vision. As darkness closed in, the crack receded into its original spot in the corner of the room.
The nurses rushed in as the last breath escaped the woman. The broken wrist strap and the large red stain in the sheets was evidence of a final act of desperation. As the nurses were wheeling the bed out of the room, one glanced at the ceiling.
"Someone should really fix that crack in the plaster before it drives me mad."