IV: Are My Screams Just A Whisper?
Five or six days ago... That was when I first had the nightmare.
I hadn't been able to get out of my room since then. The phone doesn't work, the TV doesn't work... I can't even get anybody to hear me when I yell...
My world had suddenly turned insane...
The doors are chained up, the windows are sealed shut...
And on top of that someone chained the door from the inside.
How am I going to get out of here...?
That was what I thought before all of a sudden there's this giant hole in my bathroom that makes these sounds that gives me the creeps. I crawl in, and next thing I know, I'm in a subway. I don't know how I got there from the hole and I certainly don't know if that was a dream or not. Then I woke up in a comfy bed and next thing you know, I'm in this room. Again. And absolutely nothing has changed.
However I know that that subway was real. It was too real to be a dream. The atmosphere, the creatures, the note, the blood, the nausea.
Cynthia.
All of it was too real.
Cynthia... I knew she was intoxicated as hell, but I felt like there was something on her. Beneath the reeking smell of perfume and alcohol, she held a significance. To an average person this sounds like bullshit and I should leave her but...
I don't want to. I haven't explored much of the subway but I know this... That subway held an atmosphere. A dangerous one. I felt as though someone was watching my progress, and that when I'm alone there's another person beside me. It may be God or a spirit or whatever is out there but I'll always know that I'm not alone.
But Cynthia was there. She'll maybe wake up and not remember anything, or she'll wake up and remember someone there, but as long as she's around I'm not going to risk her being alone. If whatever's in that subway is trying to hunt people down, neither me nor her is going to be a victim. I'll not go down so easily.
But how do I protect her if I'm not there?
I stare long and hard at these chains. These goddamn chains. I have numerous people to blame, including myself, but I knew from experience that blaming someone or something isn't going to make a difference.
'DON'T GO OUT - Walter'
I run my fingers across these words and find it to be somewhat pasted on the door. From afar it looks like someone wrote it in blood but now that I see it clearly, it looks like it's part of the door.
"What the hell? What's goin' on here?"
I look through the peephole to see my neighbor Eileen Galvin carrying a bag of groceries. She's my next door neighbor who is really kind. She helped me when I moved in and gave me a tour around South Ashfield Heights. Her kind, bubbly smile and her soft green eyes drew me in instantly and I ended up saying yes, even though the super promised me a tour later on. She showed me where the superintendent lived, showed me where the numbers start and stop, told me how to open the doors since they got new locks in and even introduced me to some residents. Because of her the lady who cooks with a gentle smile made me sweet and sugary pies weekly. She was almost like my sister, but less strict.
However since then, she would check on me, until she eventually stopped talking to me anymore. Not that I minded. But however I still think about her. Waiting for her to knock on my door, and shine that smile that was contagious. Waiting for her to ask me how I've adapted to South Ashfield. Maybe she'll invite me for coffee in her room, since we were next door, I would smell it every morning.
* Crash *
I snap my head up to the sound outside my door. I peer through the peephole to see her bending down to pick up the groceries that fell on the ground.
"Man..." She grunted "I hope my luck changes before the party."
I hope mine does too you know.
I sigh and move away from the door. Right now I'm preoccupied with how to get out of here, than really focusing on memories. Sure they're okay and reassuring and all but if you dwell on the past during a catastrophe, you won't really get anywhere.
I walk to the couch to rest a little when an idea struck me. What if, when I left to the subway world, some things had reset?What if the T.V worked?
Reaching over to the remote laying beside a car magazine, I examine to see if the batteries are still in, and press the power button.
No change.
I popped open the battery lid to replace it with some new batteries. After doing that, I press the same button.
Nothing.
I sigh and place the remote on the coffee table. The T.V wasn't working, as usual. Maybe try the phone again?
I briskly walk to my room and pick up the handle. Resting it gently on my ear, I tap Guys' number. I wait a few seconds, standing at the same spot, waiting for the ringing to start.
Not one sound.
'It's still not working...'
Shaking my head, I put the phone back in it's socket and turn to walk away. When I'm at the doorway however, a deafening ringing sound is heard through the air. On instinct, I snap my head behind me and what I see sends chills across my veins.
The phone is ringing.
"What the hell? This isn't right... I tried calling a thousand times and NOW it responds?"
Walking towards the ringing telephone, I grab the handle and adjust it comfortably to my ear so I can hear the sounds. Whoever it was, was a damn genius for getting through a quarantined apartment room.
"Hello...?" I questioned. I was about to question how the hell whoever it was got in, but was stopped by a raspy female voice with the likeliness of Cynthia, pant roughly through the phone. Her soft voice was shaking with what sounded like pure fear and wherever she was, sounded industrial.
"Help... Me..."
"Wai-" I exclaimed before a static, buzzing sound erupted from the speaker, cutting me off.
I grab the base and pull it out, surprising me from the sight.
"The cord's cut..." I place the still buzzing phone back in it's socket and get up.
'Boy, how much more surprises are there gonna be...'
As if god heard me, my eyes dart to a white piece of paper that has somehow slipped under my door while I was in the other room.
'What's this...?'
I pick up the piece of paper that fit's perfectly in my palm, and read the little scribbles of what would look like a child's handwriting.
'Mom
Why doesn't u Wake up?'
I stare oddly at the scrap and shrug it off.
'Maybe a kid got the wrong room. I know I did once.'
I crumple up the paper and toss it in the barrel. Mistakes are mistakes, right?
That brings me back to the piece of paper that I threw away in the subway.
'He who brings too much of a burden will regret it...'
'Then again, who was that on the phone?'
If it was Cynthia then I what I thought I dreamt might be real after all... She was drunk and they are more vulnerable to make stupid decisions...
Could the hole be real too?
In the laundry room, I look through the darkened hole to find that it was the same one I saw at first.
'Same hole same everything...
Then what was that I experienced? Was Cynthia real? Were the dogs real?'
I shiver when thinking about the dogs. Their inhumane, rotting flesh barely clinging to their skins...
'No... What if they were hostile?'
I back slowly away from the hole and debate on whether or not I should crawl through.
'If the first time happened, it may not be bound to happen again...'
After a while with that thought in mind, I approach the hole carefully, in fear something might lash out.
'Maybe it really leads out this time. There's only one way to find out...'
I breath out the breath I didn't realize I was holding in and crawl through.
*DRUMMMS*
SURPRISE BITCH! THOUGHT YOU'VE SEEN THE LAST OF ME?
Nah... I won't do that to you guys
So the new chappy is up, and I apologize for the long wait. General procrastination, school, and artist block is catching up to me. Which fucking sucks .
Read & Review my little bluebirds!
