Chapter 5:
Abruptly, like the start of a football match, the tremors became nothing but a memory that would soon fade gently into the background of my mind.
Becoming perceptible once more was every taint that buried the cleanliness of the white walls as my eyes scanned the room, a gentle smile becoming ever so apparent on my face.
Expelling it to depression was the walls that grew a sudden attraction with my body, closing in from every side as the shit stains slid from it correspondingly to the movement.
I acted quickly and grasped the bed. I had to use it as a ladder if I wanted to escape, but the fucking bed wouldn't budge. The walls looked at least a good thirty seconds away from me, but in such dire situations, seconds merged into each other and then shrunk into a temporary stream.
I tried to lift the bed, being driven by the motivation that I one couldn't ration with or otherwise have an explanation of its origins, but it was there and it was helping. I struggled and struggled again, and again, and once more.
Nothing.
The wall was then inches from my frame.
Instantly, I remembered. 'Lift with your thighs.' Of course! I thought, and so I did.
The wall started to press against my butt, but that hadn't altered my hope the slightest bit.
The agony was inconceivable, but my brain managed to convince me that through hardships, there will be liberation.
"AHHHHHHHHH!" my vocals wailed as the frame went up, slowly and with much ease, but it definitely was.
It fell onto my shoulder. This is it, I thought.
Taking a deep breath, I reevaluated the situation. No, this can't be it. I can't just give up so soon.
Finally, with great effort, I managed to make the bed stand upward. Not giving myself a second to celebrate, I climbed it faster than a monkey would from the children that shoved a lit firecracker up its ass. Prompt and sad.
Honestly, it was going just fine until I tried to skip a bar and fell back down two whole ones.
I didn't even think about it. I just attempted to climb back up, leaping out from the enclosure, only to feel the resistance of my left shin being caught in the closing building.
Gentle quivers became of my bottom lip as a sudden state of paralysis overtook me. Falling victim to its exceeding levels of mercilessness was my ears, as the crushing of my bone scraped the inner part of my ears, searing them open in fear.
Threatening me with its presence was the pain that, like dirty lies, soon caught up to me. I screamed like never before, and that was the first time I had ever witnessed depersonalization. Trust me, it was the most beautiful, yet terrifying, thing I had ever experienced.
To be there, but not? To be able to acknowledge, but acquire the inability to experience firsthand. To hear the screams, but at a distance away from the being who abused the strength of their vocals?
Eventually, guilt soaked in from my feet and infected my very soul with its venom, lacing every ounce of my being with itself.
My eyes peeked over to my right and into view, there came an ax. Without a thought in mind, I picked it up and carried it to the screaming girl.
She looked at me, and she was confused. So was I. I handed it to the girl, and she asked me what was it for as she hyperventilated.
I told her to use it on her foot. She asked me if I wanted her to cut her leg off, which increased her anxiety, but I reassured her by telling her to use it as somewhat of a lever.
To try to squeeze through the small opening for some space. I advised her to hurry up as time was never a reliant source.
Without a choice, she did as I said and released her leg.
Groaning and panting, the girl thanked me as she lay on the roof. She seemed as if she were trying to use questions in order to forget about the amount of pain she was in. I had no idea whether it worked and I was of no help, as I knew as much as she did. Nothing.
And then I resigned the deed, regaining ownership over my shell, and once again I was her and she was me. Our bodies glued together in an eternal bind, a bind that would soon outlive us both.

Elevating itself to sit was my body as it operated on its own accord, commanding my hands to become the fists that'd rub the dreariness from my eyes.
I was in a bedroom. Its walls, in the lowest reverberation possible, whispered in a tone that was somehow familiar to me.
Of course, I had no memory of ever being there, but it was something about that room that supplied me with a sense of security I didn't feel in such a long time.
The floor was tiled with plates so white and so polished that I could have seen my grubby reflection in it, the ceiling so perfect that it was hard to figure out whether or not the white oak was natural or not, its authenticity so pure and flawless. Everything from the bed's contents to the furniture in the room surely defined what a spacious and modern master bedroom should look like, as every single item looked like it cost a human heart or two.
Beyond the captivating beauty, the fact that there was not a single window really struck me. That and the silence so magnified that you could even hear your heartbeat, along with your blood as it slowly pulsed through your veins.
I stood up after some time, my expectations for pain grating through the roof. But there was nothing. In fact, my feet felt as good as before. There were pieces of white still stuck to it as if a cast was earlier removed from them.
This still had my mind ripe with queries because even if my foot was in a cast for God knows how long, how could I walk just fine with it? Wouldn't it be weird after all this time?
This clarified an earlier thought. I was doing this for a while and it messed with my memory somehow that I couldn't remember certain events. I didn't know how or why, but it happened.
I was walking around the room in circles as pointless as those little plastic tops that cover the sucking part on sports drinks when the scent first hit me, the scent that stopped me dead in my tracks.
Smoke.
Shooting itself like an arrow to the door were my eyes, scanning the streams of smoke as it slithered in from the space beneath the door.
A flow of air released itself from my lungs, tracing itself along the atmosphere like the time string that was then laced with the essence of mockery.
At a moderate pace, I approached the door, getting fed up at that point.
I grasped the knob, twisting and hauling it toward the chest, only to be engulfed with a wave of smoke. By mistake I breathed some in, expelling it back into the air in a cough as I attempted to wave some away from my airways.
There was a staircase. I approached it and practically ran down its perfectly wooden state, only to splash into what I later figured out was gasoline at the very bottom of it.
My eyes squinted through the smoke, only to see the ground shimmering with death.
 Author's Note
𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞.
𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝, 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.
𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. ☻︎
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