I only wanted food.
I admit it. If I hadn’t locked myself away planning this doomed film project I would have eaten. If I wasn’t too lazy to cook myself something in that living biohazard my house calls a kitchen.
I wouldn’t have gone out to buy myself something instead.
Honestly, I never imagined living a short life.
When I thought about my future it always involved success and growing to a plump old age, full to the brim with life, and whatever it was I was going to achieve.
Then, a man named Alex Mason who was jacked up on something, held up the corner shop I was in at knifepoint and I was stabbed in the chest and thigh.
The knife almost certainly tore my femoral artery and, I was faced with the very real possibility that I was going to bleed out, on the floor of this damned shop at 19.
I was in surgery for hours. Something had gone wrong, they kept pouring blood into me. By the litre it seemed but, no matter how much they put in I kept bleeding it back out.
I could only remember flashes of what happened.
The ceiling kept blurring in and out of focus but I could make out flashing blue lights, which meant help had arrived, it felt like the lower half of my body was on fire.
There was an ambulance, hallways, so many people talking over my body that was somehow still alive. They weren’t giving up on me yet which was a good sign.
Whatever they used to put me under was doing weird things to me because, almost in an instant the doctors,
fell away and I found myself separated from my body that lay immobile on the operating table. An ashen and crumbling version of the hospital greeted me.
I felt…drawn towards whatever it was that now sat beyond the OR. My curiosity got the better of me and I hopped down from the table still in a hospital gown. I wish I hadn’t.
Ash and grime coated every inch of this version of the hospital. The welcome desk was cracked in half, the patient rooms I mustered the nerve to peek into were completely ransacked.
A lot of the lights weren’t working so as I explored, I followed the ones that were closely.
I think whatever it was I encountered was counting on that as I found myself following the trail to the hospital’s grim basement area.
What caught my eye first was a girl stood facing a dead end hallway, she had on what looked like a metal underskirt straight from the Victorian ages.
Her hair was an unnatural white that floated on a mysterious breeze, giving it a halo like quality.
She wasn’t facing me but a feeling in my gut was screaming to stay as far away from her as possible.
The lights had fallen from their fittings in this area and she was almost completely in shadow. I made to follow my initial instincts as they usually did a good job of keeping me out of trouble.
As I turned to leave though, a voice was carried to my ears along the same phantom breeze that affected the girl’s hair. It was soothing, silkily imploring me to step closer.
I unconsciously dragged my left foot forward towards her. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t stop myself, and I edged closer and closer.
I could hear flies buzzing, it got louder and louder, until it felt like a swarm that was right on top of me. This was accompanied by a stench of rot, so overpowering I could taste it.
This girl was deathly still, yet no matter how hard I fought I couldn’t stop myself approaching her.
She finally moved, her hands slowly clutching the air at her sides. She reminded me of a black widow spider, waiting for her prey to drop its guard before it pounced.
I didn’t want to be that prey but she was magnetising.
I got almost within arms-reach when the frantic beating of my heart rate monitor broke me from my trance and I finally, stepped back,
that’s when she rounded on me and dived for my hand which I didn’t even realise had been held up. I ripped it away instinctively and she came into contact with an invisible barrier. I screamed.
And she dived again.
But that wasn’t what horrified me. The girl was me…she was wearing some grotesquely distorted copy of my face.
The skin was sagging, exposing aged bone around her mouth and eye sockets which were bloodied black holes instead of actual eyes. Despite this though it was my face.
I ran for it, and she dived after me again. I was almost certain she’d gotten me.
I woke up screaming. I survived the operation but the nurses had to sedate me to avoid tearing my stitches.
Ever since then, in that fleeting moment when the lights go out and darkness starts to surround me I see her. To think, if I’d been half a centimetre closer she could have gotten me.
That invisible barrier that kept me safe that first time around? She can’t cross it. But, I think I can, she wanted me to.
She still wants me to.