Welcome to Skinner Falls

Blink

“-- Can you hear me? Come on stay with us!”

A thin tan man with a black mustache and a white/ black checkered shirt shakes my shoulder. The squares on his shirt start to blur together making scribble lines. The man that seems so far away yells at me again.

“We need a doctor!”

“The ambulance is on the way.”

“How far?”

“Ten minuets at least.”

“Please! You can’t give up on me now! You’re my little solider, remember?”

I remember…

Click, clack. My thoughts are disturbed by the sound of heels on cement.
Two familiar staff members dress in white enter from the elevator that I arrived in on my first day down here. One, pushing an old stretcher; while the other one rushes to the suicide scene. I have no idea why they rush. There is no point in trying to save Sketch now.

We all watch as the girl worker with glasses and a ponytail kneels down by the deceased body. She checks his wrist (The none broken one) for a hopeless pulse. Shaking her head, making her pony tail sway back and forth. Instead of saying anything, Kim takes out a small tool from her staff’s coat pocket.

The tool is fairly small, about the thickness of a pencil. Gray in color, with what appears to be a barely visible knob at one end. The knob looks jagged and edgy; Almost like another half of a key.

When the tool is in a good grip she moves it toward his left wrist wear the surprisingly still intact bracelet hangs. The one each and every one of us bears to wear. I know from my own bracelet that the material is really strong. Countless times spent on tugging and pulling on it, let me conform that.

Somehow though, Kim manages to gets it off with the special tool. It is at this moment that I see that the red blinking light dies out. She places with a slide in her white coat pocket along with the tool. Then the guy staff member, Walter, helps Kim carry Sketch’s limp body on the stiff stretcher.

He lays there with his hand dangling off the side. Faintly moving back and forth, gently like the pendulum of a clock. While the other hand is on his bloody discolored uniform where his stomach should be. The Cavern is still. You can hear the eerie silence.

As Kim is making her way out, she shares a word with one of the guards. Who huddles off to the side of us. I try to catch a few words but fail. She shakes her head knowingly as he whispers softly in her ear. Besides their chitchat, the only audioable thing to be heard is Walter pushing the now occupied sketcher through the double doors out into the maze of hell.

The common high pitch sound disrupt everyone’s train of thought. We all start to get in our certain daily routine lines. Kim starts to leave after Walter. As she walks by me though, she leans in close like she is whispering an apology. But this is only a coverup as she slips something into the rough palm of my hand.

“Keep it.” She says.

I feel the cold piece of hard ware with my fingers, before hiding it up my sleeve. In the short commotion, Macy walks over with Lucy, who stumbles a bit but looks a lot better already. I tell Lucy to stand in front of me. The usual nit picky guards walk by us without a word. “Yeah that’s right. Keep on walking.” I think to myself.

Our line walks up to the metal stairs first like always. The sound of boots on the metal echoes all the way down the higher we get up. I focus on Lucy’s usual long black silky hair, which is now a rat’s nest. I wonder why she was chained to that chair…

When we get to our platform at the very top, I gesture Lucy to Sketch’s old cell, which sits to the right of mine. Might as well put some good use to it. She doesn’t ask any questions, and I wasn’t really up for them either, but travels along inside, copying other inmates move for the final lock up of the day.

All of the guards circle around the catwalks back and forth shutting the cell doors with a clash. One however, eyes Sketch’s-I mean Lucy’s cell, but his face is emotionless. I do a silent exhale as the common background noise, consisting of whimpers, began to fill the empty space with the automatic dimly lights.

Trotting over to the hole in the wall, I whisper for Lucy. She doesn’t answer. Maybe she didn’t hear me; Whispering again a little louder this time. With my voice becoming scratchy from dehydration and another no response, I peer through the small opening.

She sits on her sunken bed facing away from me. Staring at her booted feet, arms around herself comforting her own existence. I decided to let the matter be, it could wait until morning after all.

The sudden cold shiver of the blade against my ribs give me chills, reminding me I have the presence of the knife to take care of. My one of few valuable treasures that I have gain in the past 24 hours. Giving how far I have come, is not something I'll liked to lose.

Lifting my filthy mattress with one hand, I tuck away the keepsake of the knife, which I named Napoleon. I figured with Napoleon resting on the wire screechy bars, this should be enough support to keep it from falling to the ground in the middle of the night. With my luck, It probably would happen while I am sleeping.

I lay on my bed that has been becoming a better escape every night, with my head against the stonewall. Feeling the nice coolness of the stones. The best reliever I felt all day. Wiping the last few beads of sweat off my forehead with my sleeve, I see the junky scrap metal material strapped onto my wrist.

I stop mid way. Bringing my bracelet closer to my face, I start to get memorized by the red blinking light. Counting the seconds it takes between each and every blink. One…two…three…four… Blink. One…two…three…four…Blink. Red. Blink. Red. Over and over again.

Red. The blood. Flashing lights. Red. Everywhere.