I ALWAYS HAD THE feeling I'd die in a car crash.
Okay, maybe not always. But definitely since everyone thought the world was going to end. I kept thinking to myself, what if the world really did end today? Where would I go? Would I be right with God? And then, because I know that Jesus will return when everyone's least expecting it, I reminded myself the world wasn't going to end on the set time these 'scientists' predicted. Scientists lie, I know that much. Not all of them, but sometimes they do, and it's those lies that get leaked into our brains and force-fed to us as if we were unable to think for ourselves.
That rant shall come at another time.
But I never thought I'd die at the hands of a vampire, not even close.
Oh, no, I'm not dead yet, but as I stare upon the glowing red eyes drifting around the dark room, it feels as if death draws nearer and I can feel its breath on the axis of my spinal chord, weaving its icy fingers past my muscles and gripping my lungs. No, death hasn't taken me yet, and by the grace of God, hopefully I can see this through.
The vampires move side to side like snakes, their glowing eyes trained on me in the darkness pounding against my skin. I sit, frozen with my hands behind me, holding my torso up from the ground.
"It's a test of your faith!" I hear a voice call.
My eyes instinctively dart to where the sound came from, focusing on a dark figure for a moment before I glance back at the vampires.
"Don't lose your faith!" Another voice cheers.
The vampires seem to grow irritable at this, letting out low hisses. As they move, metallic clanging echoes through the room. Are they tied up too?
"Run!"
The vampires turn to this word, snarling as they smile. Suddenly a hoard of them lunge to their screaming victim, the shout gurgling out as they seem to ease up and move to the back of the room. My breath finds me and my chest expands and contracts rapidly as a cool hand grabs my forearm.
I jump, holding in a cry as the body belonging to the hand comes somewhat into view. The voice shushes me.
"It's okay. I'm human. Come over here, the lights should be coming on soon."
"I'm--I'm gonna stay right here," I gulp, not being able to see anything. There's not even something to see the floors! How am I supposed to survive in a place I can't even see-I have a problem when I can't see, and I know I've stressed that before with the lights after the woman appeared in my room.
Maybe I'm not supposed to survive, I tell myself, rolling my eyes at the stupidity of this reminder. Of course they don't. But why did they lock me in a room? Are these other Christians?
"Please come over here with me--"
"But I can't see anything," I breathe, once again stating the obvious. Only this time it was out loud and not in my head.
He sighs. "Trust me. God will protect us as long as we believe He can."
"He won't stop protecting us," I counter. "It's us that chooses to come out of his protection."
The boy groans. I can picture him rolling his eyes. "Look, duh. But life lessons aren't what you need right now. You need to get out of the doorway. We can't see anything and have no idea when it'll open and a new Christian will enter the Blood Room. And they don't care if they knock you to the side and disorient you, so come."
He takes my arm and pulls it, shuffling away on his butt and I give in and follow, crawling on my hands and knees. I touch something wet and jump, a cry sticking to the lining of my throat as my back hits the wall. What did I touch? I can't see freaking anything! I can feel the wave of irritation flare through me and I grit my teeth, growling.
"Okay, now that we're out of the puddle we can sit."
"Puddle of what?" I gasp, ferociously wiping my palm against my pant leg. Which are my pajamas, actually, and I haven't changed or showered in the past three days. I grimace at the thought. I feel disgusting.
"It's the Blood Room. Take a wild guess."
My throat turns acrid as my stomach churns. I can't handle other people's blood. Not after my nose surgery to fix my deviated septum and I threw up pure blood-twice. Now the sight of other people's blood and puss makes me want to heave... And I just crawled through a mass of it.
"Get some sleep," he says softly. If he could see my face right now... How does he expect me to sleep in this asylum? "You'll need it in the morning." He yawns. "Got a lot of explaining to do."
Just as he finishes his sentence, I feel the urge to ask questions and wonder aloud, my brain throbbing and pulsing. I can't sleep. I'll be thinking. Yes, there's sound, but that sound is coming from the beings that will push me until my faith has withered like a dead flower. I just can't lose faith.
He's snoring now. How can he slip under into unconsciousness while these beasts lurk around, unchained in the same room? Are they unchained? I can't see in the darkness.
And the night drags on, horrors and questions littering my brain like trash in the ocean.
The room is suddenly filled with light. What a beautiful thing. The scraping of metal and the ticking of pocket watches all around the room has been driving me mad. Mad as a Hatter. Absolutely bonkers.
Enough with the Alice references.
Sorry, I can't help it. I have this obsession with Alice in Wonderland, not to mention Peter Pan. Which I guess would make sense if you got to know me. Or not. Oh well.
Melanie Martinez's Mad Hatter suddenly makes itself present in my mind, as if one could find the time to sing in a horrid place like this. How stupid of my brain to think I would want to.
But I want to.
Singing helps my nerves. I guess that helps when I'm on a stage, these strange melodies and rhythms I've come to terms with over the years.
The edgy and eerie lyrics bounce off my tongue, but stop short when I hear the boy start to stir next to me, rubbing his eyes. He's Asian with black, black hair draping itself over his eyebrows and the tips of his ears, his body covered in dried blood. Now that I focus on something besides my absurdity and the insanity surrounding me, I notice the floor is stained with red blood, some places wetter than others. The crimson streaks each person in the room, some are completely drenched, others have almost none, but the liquid red leftovers taint everyone, it even reaches their pupils. It's even changed me in the one night I've been in here.
The boy stretches and yawns, smiles and bows his head over his folded hands. He's praying. He must be strong in his faith. Or, at least I hope he is; sometimes looks can be deceiving.
The boy whispers an amen before picking his eyes up to look at me. His face tells me he's in his twenties, but here I am still calling him boy. Man is too weird for me to say.
"What's your name?" He asks casually, as if this whole thing was just a sunny day and we met at Starbucks or something. But I don't ever go to Starbucks.
"Kyla," I respond, my voice cracking. I want to ask him what his name is, my excruciatingly well-mannered behavior making my brain tingle. I decide to ask. I might need a friend. "What's yours?"
"Markus." He studies me for a moment. "Tell me about yourself."
"What?" I gasp, half laughing as my eyes dart around the room. Two vampires watch us closely, murmuring to each other but never taking their red, beady eyes off of us. Their faces look as if the bones making up their skull will implode at any moment. "Of all the questions you could ask me, you ask me that one? If you haven't noticed, we're in a room full of vampires."
"No we aren't."