Just Want Out

The bed beneath me felt feather soft against my skin, for some odd reason. I wasn't complaining though, because my shitty mattress hasn't been this comfortable ever since I had gotten it. I hummed in satisfaction before turning to lie on my side snuggling the comforter closer to my body. They felt cool against my warm skin giving me a sensation I couldn't place my finger on. In all honesty I don't remember the last time I had gotten such a great night’s sleep. It was odd. With a yawn I slowly opened my eyes, ready to see my shitty room with purple walls and posters plastered to the wall.

And that's why my heart dropped to stomach, and it felt extremely difficult to breathe. Because I was not in my room, and this wasn't my bed.

My eyes widened as they took in my surroundings. The room I was in was fairly large, almost too big for a bedroom. The walls were white and plain; too clean for my liking. The floor was made up of polished wooden planks and one rug at the foot of the bed. There was a dresser, a television stand, and a chair straight ahead from the bed against the other wall. Just a few feet away from the side of the bed was a two-door entrance and another door off the other wall.

I definitely didn't remember this room, at all. I had never been in here my entire life. I knew for a fact that this wasn't a result of a drunken hook-up either. I remember putting on my Bring Me the Horizon tanktop before I slipped into my old worn down mattress. At that thought, I looked down at my body, and was relieved when I noticed I was still in the dark blue tank top that was a little too big for me. Where was I, and how did I get here? I couldn’t get those questions out of my head. Breathing was starting to get difficult, and I bent my knees, putting head in-between them, blocking out everything else, trying to focus on my breathing. It wasn’t working however, and made me start to panic even more. Out of force of habit, I started tugging at my hair pulling it furiously. I didn’t even realize that I was screaming, until the burning sensation in my throat made itself clear. I couldn’t stop myself though, it was like I was lost in the moment—lost in my own little tantrum. I vaguely heard the door open and two male voices, but their words were drowned out by my screaming. A pair of strong arms grasped mine restraining myself from causing myself, or maybe even them, any harm. My screams turned into sobs, tears freely falling from my eyes.

“Damn it, what the hell is wrong with her?” The voice had an accent, one you’d find overseas. Oddly enough, listening to it made a warm deep calm wash over me in a way, and my chest heaved up and down as I tried breathe normally, which was my main intention in the first place. I then remembered what was happening, and began to thrash in the arms that were holding me still. One of them cursed, as the grip on my arms got tighter. “He said to only use this if we were desperate, but this bitch won’t stop.” The voice muttered.

I felt a prick in my arm, and knew that they were drugging me. I didn’t stop fighting them though, until it felt like it was almost too hard to move, and my body went limb and my mind was put to sleep.