Big Brother Is Watching
Big Brother Is Watching
Day 1:
My cellmate never did like me. He would always tell me “You better knock off that attitude, or I’ll knock off somethin’ else.” I didn’t have to listen to the likes of him. He was a scumbag, just like the rest of them. My crime is petty in comparison to his. All I did was steal a car. Sure, I had some drugs on me but now a days, who doesn’t? My cellmate, on the other hand, tried robbing a bank. How stupid could you be?
He was rambling about his family, and how he only did it for them. He tells the same story almost everyday. “Boy, I tell you, if only I’d gotten away. Then Mary could have gotten her braces…” It’s the same thing day in, day out. He talks. I try not to listen, until today.
Today, when he started, I told him to put a sock in it. He didn’t like that at all. Words were exchanged. Tempers flared. Soon enough, I was sitting on his ribcage, taking shots at his semi-wrinkled face. By the time the guard pried me away from him, his face was a bloody disfigured mess.
“You’ll never learn your lesson, will you?” the guard asked snidely, as if not expecting a response. “That’s the third cellmate this month.” I simply smirked as I was dragged past the other cells, receiving glares from all the trash behind those bars. “We’ll see how much you like solitary.” I chuckled. Solitary? So I won’t have to see any of the lowlifes for a while. What a loss.
I was led through an unknown series of corridors in a different wing of the penitentiary. We stopped in front of a gray painted metal door with the number 73 displayed at the top. The guard unlocked the door, and shoved me in roughly, muttering unkind words under his breath. The door was then slammed behind me .The faint click of the lock sounding through the barren room.
Immediately, I noticed how bright it was. There were four fluorescent ceiling lights, highlighting the already titanium white walls. The room was windowless and desolate. It contained only a metal frame bed, with white sheets, a white pillow, and a brown wool blanket. There was also a small sink and toilet, but no mirror. Beside the door was a slot where food would be placed from the outside.
It had taken me a minute but from the corner of my eye, I caught a black camera in the high corner. On this camera, there was a miniscule red light, almost resembling an eye. For a few seconds I couldn’t take my eyes off it, thinking of the person sitting behind the monitor, watching my every move. I tried to shake this feeling, but no matter how hard I tried, it was always in the back of my mind.
Day 5:
I’ve kept myself busy with small tasks like cleansing myself, and cleaning the bright room, but there’s only so much you can do. At first I enjoyed the silence, but now it’s become eerie.
They pass me three meals a day. The sudden noise always shocks me. Every mealtime, a shrill, slow creek ensues from the slot, as if the hinges hadn’t been oiled in years. It seems they do it deliberately, tantalizingly slow, as if mocking me. Nails on a chalkboard couldn’t even touch this sound. It was utterly hideous, and made me want to scratch away at my eardrums.
There was no way of keeping track of time in here because there was no clock. At bedtime the lights would just shut off with no warning, sending the once extremely luminous room into complete darkness. Forcing me to fumble around for my bed in the pitch black. When I finally get in bed, all I see is that red light staring right at me from my mattress.
I’ve now developed an extreme dread for bedtime, for the time the red eye pierces mine. I’ve begun avoiding the camera’s view, spending less time on the bed and by the toilet and sink, solely to elude its gaze.
Day 7:
I was sitting in the corner underneath the camera, the only place out of its view, when the creaking started again. After my initial flinch, I tentatively tried standing up, to retrieve my food, listening intently to the screaming of the hinges, but I couldn’t make it all the way up. I began shaking violently, and couldn’t support myself. All I could hear was that sound, digging into my skull. My breath came in short gasps, and I was suddenly sweating bullets. I could feel my heart rapidly stomping inside my ribcage.
As abruptly as the noise started, it ended, as did the strange symptoms. I had lost my appetite, and desire go anywhere near that slot. I simply, lay there, in the corner below the camera, hugging my knees to my chest, taking deep, shaky breaths.
It was only when the lights went out that I got up. When I finally stumbled onto my bed, immediately, that red light stared into me. I couldn’t look away. My eyes became dry, and my body forced itself to blink, finally breaking the trance. I placed the pillow on my face quickly, to try and avoid the red eye. Eventually I managed to fall into sleep’s tight grasp.
Day 10:
I haven’t eaten since the first collapse. Now, every time the slot screams, the same thing happens. There’s become a pileup of food outside the slot. I’ve moved my mattress to the corner the camera, and every time I hear any kind of noise, I immediately look up at the camera, guilty, its accusing stare slicing through me.
I can barely manage to get up the bravery to relieve myself, having to face the camera. If I feel extremely courageous I’ll wash off my face, but that isn’t very often anymore. Today, in a surge of valor, I splashed my greasy face with cold water from the faucet, quickly, and turned around, with the intentions of squiring back to my corner, but stopped dead in my tracks.
The guard that escorted me here was standing three feet away, but his eyes were a glaring red. He stared right at my cowering body and laughed. “Big brother is watching.” The guard stated simply, in a raspy voice. “Big Brother is watching.”
Then he was gone, just like that. Then, as if on cue, the slot was screaming its terrible scream, sending me into another fit, but this time it was worse. My heart was trying to rip itself away from my chest. I was shaking so bad I couldn’t see straight, the sweat made my clothes cling to me. I let out a scream, but the silence seemed to swallow it whole. The symptoms eased up sometime later, but never completely went away. I crawled back to my corner mattress, with my back flush to the wall.
Big brother is watching.
Day 11:
I didn’t sleep at all that night. I stayed in the same position, my back against the wall, hugging my pillow, still shaking, sweating, and my heart beating in and out of my chest. I would occasionally secretly glance at the eye.
Big brother is watching.
Big brother is watching.
It was all I could possibly think about, all night. I just repeated it to myself, over and over.
Big brother is watching.
Big brother is watching.
It seemed an eternity before the lights came back on, and when they did, there he was watching me, with his red eyes, but only for a split second, then he was gone again. Shrill screams filled my ears, but they weren’t the slot’s. They were coming from me. I ran to the pile of food by the slat, and grabbed a plastic fork, and broke the fork off it, leaving only the handle with a sharp edge. I had to drown out the screams. The handle plunged deep into my ear, sending red blood everywhere, matching the color of the eye, then again in my other ear, sending me into complete silence again. The pain was so unbearable I started running around, sending blood flinging everywhere, spatter all over the bright walls. In that process the handle must have cut my wrist covering my hand. I ran to the nearest wall, determined to show the world.
Big Brother is watching.
The guard would find my body in a pool of my own blood, lifeless, and the message written across the bright white wall in crimson blood. He would find it still wet and when looked at just right, you could see the camera’s red light’s reflection in the lettering.
My cellmate never did like me. He would always tell me “You better knock off that attitude, or I’ll knock off somethin’ else.” I didn’t have to listen to the likes of him. He was a scumbag, just like the rest of them. My crime is petty in comparison to his. All I did was steal a car. Sure, I had some drugs on me but now a days, who doesn’t? My cellmate, on the other hand, tried robbing a bank. How stupid could you be?
He was rambling about his family, and how he only did it for them. He tells the same story almost everyday. “Boy, I tell you, if only I’d gotten away. Then Mary could have gotten her braces…” It’s the same thing day in, day out. He talks. I try not to listen, until today.
Today, when he started, I told him to put a sock in it. He didn’t like that at all. Words were exchanged. Tempers flared. Soon enough, I was sitting on his ribcage, taking shots at his semi-wrinkled face. By the time the guard pried me away from him, his face was a bloody disfigured mess.
“You’ll never learn your lesson, will you?” the guard asked snidely, as if not expecting a response. “That’s the third cellmate this month.” I simply smirked as I was dragged past the other cells, receiving glares from all the trash behind those bars. “We’ll see how much you like solitary.” I chuckled. Solitary? So I won’t have to see any of the lowlifes for a while. What a loss.
I was led through an unknown series of corridors in a different wing of the penitentiary. We stopped in front of a gray painted metal door with the number 73 displayed at the top. The guard unlocked the door, and shoved me in roughly, muttering unkind words under his breath. The door was then slammed behind me .The faint click of the lock sounding through the barren room.
Immediately, I noticed how bright it was. There were four fluorescent ceiling lights, highlighting the already titanium white walls. The room was windowless and desolate. It contained only a metal frame bed, with white sheets, a white pillow, and a brown wool blanket. There was also a small sink and toilet, but no mirror. Beside the door was a slot where food would be placed from the outside.
It had taken me a minute but from the corner of my eye, I caught a black camera in the high corner. On this camera, there was a miniscule red light, almost resembling an eye. For a few seconds I couldn’t take my eyes off it, thinking of the person sitting behind the monitor, watching my every move. I tried to shake this feeling, but no matter how hard I tried, it was always in the back of my mind.
Day 5:
I’ve kept myself busy with small tasks like cleansing myself, and cleaning the bright room, but there’s only so much you can do. At first I enjoyed the silence, but now it’s become eerie.
They pass me three meals a day. The sudden noise always shocks me. Every mealtime, a shrill, slow creek ensues from the slot, as if the hinges hadn’t been oiled in years. It seems they do it deliberately, tantalizingly slow, as if mocking me. Nails on a chalkboard couldn’t even touch this sound. It was utterly hideous, and made me want to scratch away at my eardrums.
There was no way of keeping track of time in here because there was no clock. At bedtime the lights would just shut off with no warning, sending the once extremely luminous room into complete darkness. Forcing me to fumble around for my bed in the pitch black. When I finally get in bed, all I see is that red light staring right at me from my mattress.
I’ve now developed an extreme dread for bedtime, for the time the red eye pierces mine. I’ve begun avoiding the camera’s view, spending less time on the bed and by the toilet and sink, solely to elude its gaze.
Day 7:
I was sitting in the corner underneath the camera, the only place out of its view, when the creaking started again. After my initial flinch, I tentatively tried standing up, to retrieve my food, listening intently to the screaming of the hinges, but I couldn’t make it all the way up. I began shaking violently, and couldn’t support myself. All I could hear was that sound, digging into my skull. My breath came in short gasps, and I was suddenly sweating bullets. I could feel my heart rapidly stomping inside my ribcage.
As abruptly as the noise started, it ended, as did the strange symptoms. I had lost my appetite, and desire go anywhere near that slot. I simply, lay there, in the corner below the camera, hugging my knees to my chest, taking deep, shaky breaths.
It was only when the lights went out that I got up. When I finally stumbled onto my bed, immediately, that red light stared into me. I couldn’t look away. My eyes became dry, and my body forced itself to blink, finally breaking the trance. I placed the pillow on my face quickly, to try and avoid the red eye. Eventually I managed to fall into sleep’s tight grasp.
Day 10:
I haven’t eaten since the first collapse. Now, every time the slot screams, the same thing happens. There’s become a pileup of food outside the slot. I’ve moved my mattress to the corner the camera, and every time I hear any kind of noise, I immediately look up at the camera, guilty, its accusing stare slicing through me.
I can barely manage to get up the bravery to relieve myself, having to face the camera. If I feel extremely courageous I’ll wash off my face, but that isn’t very often anymore. Today, in a surge of valor, I splashed my greasy face with cold water from the faucet, quickly, and turned around, with the intentions of squiring back to my corner, but stopped dead in my tracks.
The guard that escorted me here was standing three feet away, but his eyes were a glaring red. He stared right at my cowering body and laughed. “Big brother is watching.” The guard stated simply, in a raspy voice. “Big Brother is watching.”
Then he was gone, just like that. Then, as if on cue, the slot was screaming its terrible scream, sending me into another fit, but this time it was worse. My heart was trying to rip itself away from my chest. I was shaking so bad I couldn’t see straight, the sweat made my clothes cling to me. I let out a scream, but the silence seemed to swallow it whole. The symptoms eased up sometime later, but never completely went away. I crawled back to my corner mattress, with my back flush to the wall.
Big brother is watching.
Day 11:
I didn’t sleep at all that night. I stayed in the same position, my back against the wall, hugging my pillow, still shaking, sweating, and my heart beating in and out of my chest. I would occasionally secretly glance at the eye.
Big brother is watching.
Big brother is watching.
It was all I could possibly think about, all night. I just repeated it to myself, over and over.
Big brother is watching.
Big brother is watching.
It seemed an eternity before the lights came back on, and when they did, there he was watching me, with his red eyes, but only for a split second, then he was gone again. Shrill screams filled my ears, but they weren’t the slot’s. They were coming from me. I ran to the pile of food by the slat, and grabbed a plastic fork, and broke the fork off it, leaving only the handle with a sharp edge. I had to drown out the screams. The handle plunged deep into my ear, sending red blood everywhere, matching the color of the eye, then again in my other ear, sending me into complete silence again. The pain was so unbearable I started running around, sending blood flinging everywhere, spatter all over the bright walls. In that process the handle must have cut my wrist covering my hand. I ran to the nearest wall, determined to show the world.
Big Brother is watching.
The guard would find my body in a pool of my own blood, lifeless, and the message written across the bright white wall in crimson blood. He would find it still wet and when looked at just right, you could see the camera’s red light’s reflection in the lettering.