An Unheard Scream
Trapped
I couldn't move.
Cold, rough hands had buckled down my body to the table. A leather band was strapped over my forehand to keep me facing forward. The table I laid on was lifted to standing position as a blurry figure in white slipped out of sight.
They were afraid of me, I slowly realized.
Although they had shot an unknown drug into my veins, they displayed large placid smiles. I had noticed before my train of thoughts began to slur that the doctors treated me as if I were on the verge of ripping out their throats.
Of course who could blame them?
I was a mass murderer, after all. The blood of innocents would forever stain my hands. The screams of countless tortured souls would forever ring in my ears.
A sadistic smile split my dry lips.
It was worth it.
An unseen hand wheeled the table down a maze of white walls. Through my slugged mind state, I heard the wails of sorrow, remorse, and vengeance as we passed locked doors. The sound disturbed me. For the first time, I felt fear. I struggled against the restraints as I was pushed into a padded room.
Hands grabbed me and untied me from the table. I tried to run, but the drugs caused me to fall and helplessly crawl toward the exit. The hands sat me up and pulled a jacket on me. I fought pathetically as they tied the long sleeves to my back.
This was my punishment.
I, a legendary serial killer, was brought down to my knees with a straight-jacket and a padded room.
An angered scream ripped through my throat as fuzzy silhouettes slammed shut a door behind them.
I was trapped.
Cold, rough hands had buckled down my body to the table. A leather band was strapped over my forehand to keep me facing forward. The table I laid on was lifted to standing position as a blurry figure in white slipped out of sight.
They were afraid of me, I slowly realized.
Although they had shot an unknown drug into my veins, they displayed large placid smiles. I had noticed before my train of thoughts began to slur that the doctors treated me as if I were on the verge of ripping out their throats.
Of course who could blame them?
I was a mass murderer, after all. The blood of innocents would forever stain my hands. The screams of countless tortured souls would forever ring in my ears.
A sadistic smile split my dry lips.
It was worth it.
An unseen hand wheeled the table down a maze of white walls. Through my slugged mind state, I heard the wails of sorrow, remorse, and vengeance as we passed locked doors. The sound disturbed me. For the first time, I felt fear. I struggled against the restraints as I was pushed into a padded room.
Hands grabbed me and untied me from the table. I tried to run, but the drugs caused me to fall and helplessly crawl toward the exit. The hands sat me up and pulled a jacket on me. I fought pathetically as they tied the long sleeves to my back.
This was my punishment.
I, a legendary serial killer, was brought down to my knees with a straight-jacket and a padded room.
An angered scream ripped through my throat as fuzzy silhouettes slammed shut a door behind them.
I was trapped.
♠ ♠ ♠
This was a nightmare I had a few years ago. It still haunts me to this day. My dream was a lot more personal and creepier. I have a hard time thinking about it without making my skin crawl. So, I revised it into something I can deal with. I hope you enjoyed it. Comments are appreciated.