IV

8.4K 83 8
                                    

 When I step into the dining room for dinner, the aura feels strange. The Doll Master sits at the head of the table as usual but he wears a crooked smile on his lips that doesn't sit well with me. Maybe it's because I expected him to be angry about our encounter earlier. Maybe he's decided to be respectful? Anne's journal did say that he never forced her to do anything with him without her consent...

I can't find anything out of the ordinary except for my water tasting slightly bitter. I brushed that thought off because it's most definitely psychosomatic. After I finish my meal, his eyes remained locked on mine. I stare back at him confused.

My focus shifts when his figure splits into two. I blink twice but my vision swirls right before my eyes. I massage my eyes with my palms to try to fix my vision. I hear the sound of a chair being pulled back and ensuing footsteps.

"There's no use in doing that."

"Huh?" I look back up at a three-headed Doll Master.

"What's happening to me?"

The Doll Master's deep chuckle reverberates through my ears. Time seems to slow down and sounds echo twice as long as they should. My consciousness slips from my grasp but I keep holding on tight.

"What's happening to me?" I repeat, but this time my voice doesn't sound like mine. Involuntarily my eyes shut and I fall out of my chair. My body is paralyzed and my consciousness is slipping through my fingers.

A shadow looms over my motionless body right before I completely black out. "Maybe this will teach you not to disobey your master."

~

I wake up to a cold sensation covering my body and someone tickling my arm.

"Stop that! It tickles!" I laugh, not bothering to open my eyes. When it doesn't stop, I open my eyes to reveal that no one is there.

"Huh?" I sit up to take in my surroundings. To my horror, the source of the tickling was a grey furry rodent that quickly scampers away when my piercing scream echoes throughout this tiny room. It squeezes itself underneath the door.

I feel dirty. I want to shower. I realize I haven't even showered since I've been here. That's disgusting. For some reason, this all hits me at this very moment. I blame the rat.

I'm in a tiny grey square-shaped room. My guess would be the size is around 5 square feet. This is a problem because I have claustrophobia. I have to keep reminding myself to take deep breaths or else the walls will close in on me and all hell will break loose.

I turn my attention to the door. There's no handle on the inside but my guess it there's one on the outside. The only way I can tell it's a door is by the hinges and the small gap between it and the floor. That's the only opening this room has. I am going to suffocate in here if the walls don't close in on me first.

To add insult to injury, this room is also absolutely freezing. The only protection I have from the crisp air is from my thin jersey fabric dress that doesn't even reach halfway down my thighs. Great.

I huddle in the corner for what feels like hours. When I finally doze off a loud siren blares in my ears, causing me to become alert and awake again. This cycle repeats. Whoever is controlling the sirens obviously doesn't want me nodding off.

My stomach growls. I'm not sure how long I was asleep before waking up to my rat friend's tickles. He's returned several times, each time squeaking from underneath the door as if to taunt me about his freedom relative to my innate my captivity. 

I decided to name him Mr. Tickles. I take satisfaction in that if Mr. Cuddles was here, Mr. Tickles would be nothing more than a meaty snack.

I become unaware as time passes and I continue to fight off the urge to doze off due to the siren's persistence in keeping me awake giving me headaches each time.

Maybe it's the lack of fresh oxygen with every breath or maybe the fact that I am physically deprived by every definition of the word, but I panic. I need to get out of here. I need to finish reading about how Anne got out of this godforsaken doll house. That way, I'll get an idea.

My mind doesn't wander for long because it's interrupted by a rippling pang coming from my stomach that causes me to topple over onto my side. This is so much worse than period cramps, and that's saying something! It feels like someone is stabbing a knife in my gut and twisting. Then removing it and repeating the process. The hunger pains are excruciating in combination with this severe fatigue. 

There's a reason they say isolation elicits insanity. It's honestly the worst thing I've ever endured. Now I understand why all the liberals protest this kind of punishment in our prison system.

Not only does it drain your physical body, but it fucks up your mind. It's gotten to the point where I'm having trouble separating the hallucinations from reality. I keep seeing weird shapes and figures. But then, I see a door open and I have to blink to believe myself.

Right in front of me, a new opening to a field of daisies. I watch as the sun gleams down on the large green field and I smile. Slowly I stand up, to take in the full scenery. But oh no! The door is beginning to close! 

I sprint towards the door and launch myself through, but my forehead slaps concrete instead and I smash my head back really hard on the unforgiving concrete. I sit up and a warm liquid trickles down my face and I smile, watching it drip at my feet and mix with the growing puddle of tears.

The room spins around me and my eyes snap shut. The sirens go off again but maybe this time they're only in my head. 

I cling to the ground as if it's my only source of survival. The walls begin moving and I want to throw up. I wince, bracing for the pain of my body slowly being crushed by the concrete walls. I begin to breathe heavily as I can feel the force of the walls pressing into my skin.

My thoughts start spinning and my world swirls around me. I can't decipher the ceiling from the floor. Colors flash behind my eyelids and I lose control of my body as it breaks through the concrete floor and I begin to sink in quicksand. I can no longer breathe. 

I allow my consciousness to drift away, taking me away from the terrifying machinations of my conscious mind.

Life SizeWhere stories live. Discover now