Chapter 4 - ADRENALINE

Chapter Four:

It was becoming a then recurring theme, rising from the feeling of cold against your back, an icy feeling that emanated from the outer layer of a rocky surface to pulsate throughout every molecule within your body.

Scanning my surroundings was made difficult for a few moments as my vision became blurred with an unfamiliar haze. This haze, being as one would usually think, is unfortunate enough in such a situation, but I promise you it grew nothing more but worse as it came along with the fact I was losing my memories before I could barely even fully appreciate them.

All I remembered then was being chased by a faceless person.

My fingers rose and massaged my temples in an attempt to figure out anything, but to avail, nothing in that moment came to me. It was as if all the steps I took into figuring out where I was or why I was here actually led me further and further away from actually figuring out anything.

There was a throb resonating from within my skull as if it were smashed a while back and was now reconstructing itself. A pain that seemed as if with every passing second and every breath grew worse.

If I were to be honest, right then and there, I felt so hopeless. Like there was nothing else for me.

Could you blame me? I had everything stripped from me. My family, friends, home, identity. I was just placed into a life or death situation, given not even a hint of direction. If I were honest, in a situation like that, death seemed pretty sweet. And it's stupid because I was lying there, looking down in despair, when all I had to do was look up.

By chance, I gathered the strength to just look up, and there it was.

Fully encapsulating the definition of glory was the merit that stood great before me. It seemed as if pulsating around its form and the contents were a gentle yet undeniable glow. It was a glow that reflected within the pupils of my eyes, a glow that clouded my crippling depression with its lure, it was a glow that signified the eminence of its being and for a second, for a sweet second that felt like forever, I was happy.

I rose to my feet, my lungs too stunned to operate as my hunger peeked through the blinds of my eyelids to see what was displayed before me. A feast. A feast made just for me, or it wasn't. I didn't care. I had no idea when my last meal took place, or where for that matter, but all that had significance was what stood graciously before me. To be more specific, a whole thanksgiving meal.

I sat on the chair displayed before me and admired glory in its finest. A turkey, fat and crispy sitting right at the center of the table of which was long enough to feed a village. A bowl great in its size filled to the brim with stuffing, an adorable bowl beside it, delicately accommodating just the right amount of cranberry sauce.

Beside the bowls there was a sweet potato pie, the brightest orange my eyes can possibly perceive, and beside that, there was a mid-sized bowl packed with mashed potatoes which peeked slightly above the warm blanket of gravy that made saliva puddle in my mouth by just the powerful scent it wore like a coat sewn with pride. There was a plain salad too and lastly, there was a bottle of Armand de Brignac Brut champagne stuffed in a bucket of ice.

Obviously, the thought crossed my mind. This is probably poisoned. Who gives a shit? Imagine going out in such a glorifying way. Many would want that.

So as you can guess, I dug in. I dug in and ate every last bit of the food. Shoveling every crumb, cleaning every bone, licking every plate, I did it all and sat back to release a sigh entangled with exhaustion, gazing down at my stomach and trying to stuff it into the high-waisted jeans I was then wearing.

I remember chuckling to myself.

Whoever picked out these clothes knew exactly what they were doing, and I didn't know whether I should feel thankful or offended.

I patted my stomach and sighed once more, a slight smile residing on my face.

A moment passed, and then another.

Did I really just eat all that by myself? With a great decline in pace, a frown fought and won against the smile.

I hugged myself, my nose trembling and my brows lowering in shaky accordance.

A moment passed, and then another.

I bit my lip and released a sigh. Feeling the tears in my eyes, I blinked them away.

A moment passed, and then another.

I threw my head back and stared at the stone ceiling, refusing to acknowledge my stomach. How could I ignore something that was constantly on me, a part of me? How could I ignore something that simply is me?

You know... it's funny how fast something good could turn into something that completely eats you alive.

Suddenly, something caught my eye. I sat up, squinting at what was displayed before me. There was a bell, a small one, golden in its tint. It was just levitating, rising higher and higher until all of a sudden it shook itself.

This time, nothing happened. I didn't fall asleep, so it shook itself with more power. This carried itself on for a few moments as I sat frozen in place. And then it hit me. No, like it literally threw itself at me, right in the middle of the forehead, and what can I say? It sure did the trick.



My eyes were closed, and it was already burning from the brightness. So you could only imagine the pain of opening them. It felt like someone lit a cigar and held me back as they put it out it within the damp sockets of my eyes.

With a shock so great, I forgot the pain in my eyes as my pupils evolved to suit.

Instead of an excruciating, yet expected throb emitting from my skull, it actually occurred across the expanse of my back, and to further engage the itch of uncertainty, my stomach was no longer full.

With the assistance of logic and the facts gathered, I put together a brief explanation that wasn't fulfilling in any way, but healthy to acknowledge.

Every time I go unconscious, it happens for long periods of time. Periods I would never be known of its expanse, but at least I knew something. With this slight bit of information -- be it false or not -- I focused on what was before me.

The room was clearly white but covered in stains. I think it would be better for us both if we dug deeper into neither how the stains got there or what they were, but they were three prominent colors; brown, red, and even black. The other colors were a vomit green, a hint of yellow, and chunks of orange.

I vowed to never touch those walls, especially because some of the stains seemed fresh. Fucking disgusting, I remember thinking. Spoiler: I ended up touching the walls and to this day I think I can still smell the shit. No, like literal shit.

I remember sitting on a rusty, metal bed frame that was once, I assumed, a prominent black. I got off of it, staring at the room with a face that displayed no emotion. But I promise you on the inside I was crying and throwing up.

My head fell back. I remember feeling the gentle breeze brush my face, the softness of my hair falling onto my back. At the top of the room, it was opened to the spectacular colors of the sky.

I stood still for a moment, and maybe a smile crept up my cheeks. Kill me if you disagree, but I was going to appreciate any amount of sweet feeling my desperate fingers could grasp. I was going to savor every last particle of its essence, hoping to engrave those brief moments within my memory.

That's why there was barely any scent of the fresh shit. I thought. The breeze saved me. There was still the lingering scent of it, but at the moment, I chose to believe the fresh breeze overpowered it. I mean, it didn't, but it helped to think like that.

I looked down and to my side and just like that, as fast as it came, the feeling… it left, just like that. Becoming slipped right down the slippery slope that is human emotion, my smile caught wind and became its opposite.

There was a timer of forty-five seconds, declining rapidly right before my eyes. Shit.

My eyes looked at the top, then it scanned the room. I looked back at the countdown. Forty seconds. My eyes danced aimlessly from the room, bed, and sky until the clock was thirty seconds and then the adrenaline kicked in.

Surging through my veins was this feeling I felt only once before. My primal instincts took the wheel, shooting energy to emanate in full eclipse over my humane thoughts. Before I could notice, I was before the bed and trying to lift it.

With every second, more energy produced from null to fall into the places I needed it most, but the bed it was impossible.

I pulled and forced and dragged until my fingers were becoming the predominant shade of Dory. The energy slowly, but surely, sent skimming down my flesh in tedious beads of sweat that just conveniently dampened my palms.

I looked back at the countdown, twenty-two seconds.

I dried my palms and tried again, but to no avail. The bed moved only a quarter of an inch and, given the fact I put all my force into it; it was no source of motivation. This situation was helpless. I was helpless.

I sat on the bed and stared at the countdown. I did not know what that whole thing was, why I was there, where I was, or how I even ended up there.

I didn't know who I was, where I wanted to go, where I've been.

Fifteen seconds.

Whatever this thing is, it's genius. Unbeatable.

Fourteen.

Is there even a way out of this thing?

Thirteen.

Why am I even trying?

Twelve.

Can I even get out? And if I do, is there something even out there for me?

Eleven.

Death surely isn't an option. Because no. 

Ten.

Is this torture? Is it something I've done?

Nine.

What, did they wipe my memory? If they did, then what's even the point if I don't know what I did?

Eight; what's the point?

Seven, my thoughts were silent.

Six, nothing.

Five, a glance at the sky.

Four, a sigh.

Three, acceptance of defeat.

Two, planning to die in peace.

One, stillness.

Suddenly, the room broke out in blood-curdling tremors. Tremors that, with one of it, the bed with me on it were sent to the opposite end of the room.

My eyes, taking the full shape of a circle, caught the clock.

Zero, motivation.

I narrowed my eyes, a gleam of hope shining brightly within it. I'm too early in to accept defeat, and knowing I'd die regardless, why the hell not?

 Author's Note

𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠?

𝐌𝐲 𝐝𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤. 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧.

𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫... 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫.

𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 ☺︎︎.

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐠. 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞?

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞!

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