Freedom
Opening
My eyes stare blankly at that snow white wall ahead of me; tears stinging at the corners of my eyes, longing to fall, though I won't let them. No. I won't let them see me become weak. Not now. Not ever. I screw my eyes shut, struggling to free my arms; wincing at the sharp pain that shoots its way up my arms to my shoulders. I can feel the straps beginning to dig into my sides as I get my arms mere inches away from my body, though there's no way to uncross them; leaving me no way to unhook the straps that trap my arms down.
My legs struggle against their own restraints for what seems like ages before my body simply gives up; falling back against this far too uncomofortable 'bed'. All I can do now is lie here, my throat burning as I scream; needing something, anything, to put me out of this pain. Something to let me forget where I am; what I am, who I am.
As I open my eyes I see one of the workers standing outside my door, though all I can really see is her little smirk, which also manages to shine through her eyes as well; as if she's trying to tell me that I'm not helping myself any in the long run. That's probably true, but what else do they epect me to do when I'm strapped down to some table that they like to call a bed?
Finally I see other workers push passed Freedom; that's her name, Freedom. Such a simple word for something that can cost people so much in their lives, or even cost them their lives, don't you think? Also, a very interesting choice of aname for somebody who's job is to help keep people from their freedom.
To get back to my story; the workers rushed into my room, simply staring at me, seeing as there wasn't really anything wrong with me, that they could see at least. My body shook slightly as I suddenly fell into a coughing fit. Instantly one of the workers helped me to sit up, my heading quickly falling forward as far as it could, chin pressed to my chest, though that somehow helped me, for my coughing slowly came to a stop. The second worker had left the room and was now re-entering the room with two small, plastic cups in hand.
Everyone here knows what that means; two pills, barely enough water to swallow them down with, and then next thing you know, you're waking up hours later and don't truly remember exact details of what happened the night before. Everything is still a blur the first few hours after you wake; still fuzzy. You're still not quite you, you could say.
My legs struggle against their own restraints for what seems like ages before my body simply gives up; falling back against this far too uncomofortable 'bed'. All I can do now is lie here, my throat burning as I scream; needing something, anything, to put me out of this pain. Something to let me forget where I am; what I am, who I am.
As I open my eyes I see one of the workers standing outside my door, though all I can really see is her little smirk, which also manages to shine through her eyes as well; as if she's trying to tell me that I'm not helping myself any in the long run. That's probably true, but what else do they epect me to do when I'm strapped down to some table that they like to call a bed?
Finally I see other workers push passed Freedom; that's her name, Freedom. Such a simple word for something that can cost people so much in their lives, or even cost them their lives, don't you think? Also, a very interesting choice of aname for somebody who's job is to help keep people from their freedom.
To get back to my story; the workers rushed into my room, simply staring at me, seeing as there wasn't really anything wrong with me, that they could see at least. My body shook slightly as I suddenly fell into a coughing fit. Instantly one of the workers helped me to sit up, my heading quickly falling forward as far as it could, chin pressed to my chest, though that somehow helped me, for my coughing slowly came to a stop. The second worker had left the room and was now re-entering the room with two small, plastic cups in hand.
Everyone here knows what that means; two pills, barely enough water to swallow them down with, and then next thing you know, you're waking up hours later and don't truly remember exact details of what happened the night before. Everything is still a blur the first few hours after you wake; still fuzzy. You're still not quite you, you could say.
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Please leave me comments on this! These aren't necessarily chapters, but I know that people here want to read more of this story, so whenever I write a few more paragraphs I stick them up here so there's more for you guys to read.If there are any spelling errors or anything like that, please point it out in a comment so I can go back and fix it. And, if there's anything that you'd love to see in this story, post it in a comment and I may just put it in there and put my own little twist on it.