INTRODUCTION
My lips are dry and my throat is sore, the insides of it tasting like vomit. And I taste something else, coming from the corners of my mouth. It tickles my skin as it runs down my chin. It smells like iron. It is blood.
For some odd reason, I’m sure what I’m feeling, and soon tasting, is blood. I lift a hand to wipe it off and estimate the size of the wounded area but my hands don’t budge. They seem to be tied down, restrained somehow, along either of my side. I try to move my feet. They don’t stir and I’m not surprised. My hand can move to the front but falls back down since the rest of me is tied down. There is no sense in struggling. I should have learned this by now.
Darkness has swallowed me. The last thing I remember is arms, a lot of them, snatching me in the middle of the night, dragging me out of my bedroom as I screamed for help. And then I woke up here, in silence, my limbs stuck on the surface that is holding my body.
Out of nowhere, I hear a groan, and the groan shortly turns into a high-pitched scream. I’m not alone inside the room; at least I know now. The cries continue and they sound like cries of a girl.
‘Help!’ she screams even louder and I can hear my heart pounding inside my ears. ‘Help me!’
I want to speak but it might not be the wisest choice. It’s not like I know her anyway. And I certainly can provide any help in this state. So I wait.
I soon hear shifting of bodies, ruffling of clothes and my mind is sharp again.
‘Hey,’ someone else whispers, and I can tell they’re nowhere near me.
‘Who are you?’ they ask.
Who am I?
I don’t know.
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Sense #WeAreDystopia
Mystery / ThrillerI don't know who I am. I only know that they marked my body with the number eleven. And I have no idea who "they" are. Or why they're tormenting me and everybody else trapped inside these walls. But I know one thing for sure. I won't give up. #35...
