Scratch

'How long have I been here?' You ask yourself at least every hour, or every half hour, or every minute. You've lost understanding of time, so you don't know.

'The door is right there' you think to yourself, looking down at your legs from where you sit on your bed. No restraints, no weights, no broken bones, nothing keeping you from leaving.

You began feeling a bit of uncomfortable pressure in your head causing your breath to quicken. To deepen.

Your body felt heavier and heavier by the second. 'How can I stop this?' You desperately asked yourself?

You felt an urge. An urge to lift up your hand, and place it over your eye. That's exactly what you did. Your hand hovered over your face.

You wanted to scratch it.
You wanted to scratch it out.

Heavier and heavier your body got as you sweat and sweat till you're sure there's no way you could sweat anymore.

'No more stalling' you thought, pushing the spherical marshmallow out of its protective socket. You let out a scream. Why would you though? Isn't it what you wanted?