Unfamiliar Surroundings revised

Here is my attempt on the revision i talked about.

Drip.... Drip.... Drip.....

The sound of a leaky faucet interrupted my sleep. I tried to ignore it but for some reason the sound was surprisingly loud. I reached for my blanket to pull over my head as I always did when I did not want to wake up. I was startled when I did not feel the softness of my big fluffy blanket in my hands. Instead a woolly texture scratched my soft skin. Needless to say this startled me and I started to sit up. I then realized I did not feel the comfort of my mattress beneath me but rather a bed of cold cement. My mind had not caught up with my body and it wasn't fully awake yet. I fumbled around for my glasses and after a few lazy attempts to find them I gave up. With one eye opened and only my ears to rely on I followed the dripping sound. The eerie noise led me to a small bathroom sink. I fumbled for the knob to try and shut the water off but as I strained to twist it, the knob refused to budge. I shrugged my shoulders and leaned on the sink; my hands griping the sides which felt full of rust.  As my eye lids began to separate I noticed I was directly in front of a mirror and I cannot lie I was spooked.  Not at the mirror it made sense that it was there since my hands were resting on a sink. The thing that spooked me was the image in the mirror. It wasn't just blurry it was skewed and distorted; I stared intensely at it and I swear the image in the mirror was beginning to look a lot like my mom. I blinked my eyes a couple times to remove the morning glaze, but the image stayed the same.  I knew I could not rely on my eyes without glasses so I stumbled back over to the slate I had been laying on. Out of habit I reached down on the side of the cement bed. Surprisingly I felt my glasses almost immediately neatly folded up like I had put them there myself.  As I put them on I was reminded that would have been the first place I checked, but I shrugged it off and walked back over to the sink. The mirror showed its age; thick with a deep yellow tint and black speckles tracing the rim. When I saw myself in the mirror I was comforted. Still suffering from morning fatigue; I attempted to wash my hands and face in the sink. The morning ritual was rejected as I tried to twist the knobs with no luck. I looked down at the faucet with determination, and I tried once again to make the knobs budge however, they refused. At least the noise of the leaking stopped... I thought to myself. At that moment I was finally aware of the situation I was in.

For reasons still unknown to this day instead of being scared I was overwhelmed with curiosity. I surveyed the room to see I was encased in cinder block walls. I noticed almost immediately that there was not a single window to be found. In fact the only disturbance in the wall was an old over sized and excessively rusty iron door. The door had a tiny slot closed shut and just big enough to fit a hand in. I stared at the iron door and searched for a handle but there was none to be found. I felt the familiar burning sensation spread over my body. I tried to calm myself down by focusing on my breathing breathe in breathe out breathe in breathe out I whispered aloud but had no success. My chest began to tighten and I was hyperventilating now. Out of habit I reached for my pills but in their place was pack of menthol's. This was very odd as I had quit smoking years ago. As I pulled the cigarettes out of my pocket I came to the realization that this was an unopened pack. After patting down my pockets I started to panic again my chest felt as if it were caving in. I turned all my pockets inside out and patted my bra, still no lighter. I frantically scanned the room that seemed to be circling around me. The old sink, the iron door and the cement bed seemed to be taunting me.  Then, out of nowhere the lighter appeared laying right where I had found my glasses earlier. The place I would of put it back when I was smoking and in my own room. I shook my head trying to get rid of the thoughts attempting to take over my sanity. I calmly walked over grabbed the lighter and picked up the thin excuse for a blanket. I wrapped the itchy material around me out of habit and sat up in the bed.

As I flicked the lighter on it ignited a flame which revealed a very disturbing scene in the corner. It was my old childhood desk complete with my mom’s old figurines, my favorite books, and the box holding my precious art supplies. Even my sketch pad and my journal lay open on the desk. I promise there was no way it had been there before. I stared at the desk for awhile forgetting all about the cigarettes when suddenly I noticed the pages of my journal flipping as if someone were reading it. After what seemed like several minutes I saw my art box swing open and the marker drifting out of it as if someone invisible had a hold on it. I stared at it intensely making as little noise as possible. The journal flipped a page and the marker aggressively scribbled something down then floated back into the air; slowly finding its way into the art box. The lid closed so gently that you didn't hear a sound. The journal wasn't as lucky and it slammed shut. I gasped startled by what I had just witnessed. I scooted myself back as much as I could and pulled my knees up to my chest. As I stared at the desk in shock and disbelief the journal suddenly flew up in the air and headed straight for my face.

 

I dodged the heavy book just in the nick of time; it hit the wall and bounced off landing to the side of me. I looked down to see it open and revealing what had been written just moments ago:

I loved you with all my heart.

Is this really how you feel?

A tear started to fall down my cheek as I remembered what I had written. I was in a lot of pain when my mom passed. I did not understand how she could intentionally take herself away from me. I let out my frustrations in my journal in the form of a poem. The knot in my throat started to swell and another tear rolled down my cheek. The pages of the journal began to flip again revealing my work.

A familiar voice whispered the first two lines:

Not even a note was left for me.

Forever alone I am forced to be.

The voice grew out of a whisper and it was clear now whose voice it was:

Did you even think of things you might say?

Did you even think of the way I might pay?

During the next part she began to scream:

Your were only worried about the voices in your head

Maybe they were right, you are better off dead.

Her voice started to fade on the last word and the room fell into a deep silence the little light I had faded into complete darkness. The emotion I felt was so intense it is hard to describe. Grief took over and I could no longer stop the tears. Overcome by the feeling I curled up in the itchy blanket and closed my eyes.

I am not sure if I had fallen asleep but the feeling as if someone were holding me forced my eyes open. I felt a hand cup my face and a thumb slid across my cheek to wipe my tears away. The fear of what the darkness was hiding insisted I make use of my lighter. As the flame ignited I was relieved to see that I was alone. I reached for my pack and pulled out a cigarette. I placed it between my lips and lit it up. After a few puffs, I could feel the nicotine rush and I slowed down taking a puff every few minutes. My thoughts were of my mother had that really been her? The voice was identical there was no mistaking this. I decided to shake it off and just focus on my cigarette. I looked at the lit cigarette and remembered the boy who burned himself with them trying to get my attention. He got my attention; I was a sucker for adornment. The attention didn't last long though; it never really did with any of them. The nicotine soothed my nerves and after one last puff I threw it to the ground and flattened it beneath my boot. The comfort the cigarette brought me did not last as it was quickly interrupted. I do not believe I have heard a more terrifying noise before or after that point. It wasn't just a scream; it was the sound of inconceivable suffering. A shiver rushed down my spine and I jumped up out of overwhelming fear. I knew even at that moment that scream would haunt me for life. When I stood up I stared at the iron door terrified of what lay on the other side.

A light flickered on illuminating the iron door that held me in this prison. Without any windows to shed light from the outside I cannot tell you how long I sat on that cement bed fixated by the haunting light swinging above the door. My nails were bitten down to the point of bleeding but I felt no pain. Not a single tear had rolled down my cheek since I heard that wretched sound. When the light went off again and the darkness took back over; I did not even flinch. I just sat there curled up with the blanket wrapped around me completely and entirely numb. That’s when the cell fought back refusing  me to ignore it. It felt as if I were in one of those tornado simulators. The wind tore through the room accompanied with a whistling sound. I still sat there staring; not a tear, not a flinch. The whistling sound turned into cries and the blanket was ripped from me. The light started to come back in the room as if the sun were rising. I heard a laugh coming from where the desk was. I looked over to see the pages in my journal being ripped out. The figurines sprang in the air all at once and I jumped off the bed. I huddled as close to the floor as possible to protect myself. With my face buried I heard the figurines smash one by one. I began to cry again now but not because of the figurines. I cried because all I wanted right now was my mom, my real mom. The mom who used to hold me and sing sweet lullabies too me when I was sad. I uncurled myself and lay motionless on the floor.

After a few moments I turned over to transition into the fetal position. I gasped when I saw a set of eyes wide open and staring at me. I recognized the eyes almost immediately they had belonged to my mom. She lay next to me motionless on her back with her head tilted towards mine. Her body was bloated and blue and her hand stretched out to me holding a key. I lost it and yelled out with such emotional pain and fear if you had heard it, it probably would haunt you for life. I scrambled to the cement bed as if it were my safety zone. I looked down at her lifeless body and I cracked. I just kept rocking back and forth trying to convince myself this wasn't real but her eyes kept piercing my soul. Then her other hand moved and I jumped back screaming again in fear. Her hand pointed at the door and fell back down lifeless and as if it never happened. The light above the door flickered back on to reveal a keyhole right where a handle should be. I looked at my mother’s hand that held the key and as I grabbed it from her she disappeared and I heard her whisper; I’m Sorry…

© 2013 Anna Lynn  

Author's Note

Please give me your honest opinion!

Reviews

[Denise D. Aggen]

This is amazing work Anna~! I loved it, it kept me on the edge of my seat.

[Anna Lynn]

Oh good I put allot of heart and soul into my writing so its so nice to hear positive feedback I can't lie

[Anna Lynn]

Trying to transfer something on here from word is aggravating ill fix the weird font screw ups later.