Where In the Dark?

I ripped at the hair my mother had helped me do this morning. I pulled at it, shrieking. There was something wrong, something horribly wrong.

I felt the air rush out of my lungs, could feel the vibrations running through my throat, could feel my voice cracking halfway to the open air… Everything was in place, except...

No sound came out. I felt my lungs shrinking, my throat slowly closing into itself... Someone had stolen away the noise from my body. The same person who decided that I wasn't important anymore, wasn't entertaining enough.

My hand gripped the area around my collarbone tightly as I gasped for air, feeling my way through the dimly lit room. Mounds of clutter toppled as I frantically searched for a window, a light switch, a door, anything...

Did the room grow darker? I couldn't tell, I was too busy feeling my way through mounds of unidentifiable objects scattered through the room. Something warm touched my leg, and a slimy substance began to drip down my calf. I glanced down in fear to find that a human arm had fallen onto me, the blood oozing from its open wound.

Jumping, I tripped over my own feet, down into a different pile. It was getting colder the farther I went. My lungs were folding in on themselves, my throat burning for air.

I scrambled up as fast as I could, my movement slowing down... I guess lack of oxygen'll do that to you. I bent down, trying to breath in as much as I could, and I noticed a bright sliver or light across the floor. <i>What is that?</i> I dropped to my knees and crawled over to it.

The door! <i>Door! Where's... handle...</i> Even my thoughts were slowing down. Reaching up, I felt along the door for the knob to open it. Running my hand over its paint, I slumped to the floor with no avail. The door had no handle; it had been locked from the outside.

Tears began to run down my cheeks as I laid down, regaining some oxygen from the underside of the doorway. I let out a cough before mumbling, "What's this?", picking up a small cup filled with a dark liquid. A small note was taped on which read "for your cough", written in red ink. I scowled at it, letting out another one before drinking some of the foul liquid.

The cup dropped to the floor, splattering the rest of the drink. My hands lept to my throat, scratching at my airway as it closed. Hair dye.

My head dropped to the ground as the light slowly fled from my eyes.

The last thing I heard were boots walking along the floor outside the room, checking to see if I had passed yet. Well they got their wish as I slowly curled up and died on the floor of the dark room.