- 16 -
You know being trapped in the same room day ’n night really makes you start to think differently. My thoughts differ on whether the sky is actually blue; the grass is actually green. And I’m not just thinking of an open space to fill the masses. Our government has one thing in common; greed. To think that some of us are more likely to take the green rather than the red. It’s a question I asked myself every day in December.
Not sure why this month was important to me, I never had feelings for the holidays. Special reasons to leave the house entered my mind, I got to leave behind my family. They don’t need to think about me all the time. I’m safe out of their care, and without them, Susan has a better life to look forward to. So, it’s no real surprise why they didn’t take the bait. I set up several codes within transcription all encrypted, I didn’t wish to decipher any of this. Nobody was going to read my code. Nobody gets to reveal the answers.
I had a strange hobby as a kid, I’d write down scribbles, little drawings that don’t mean anything to others. The other kids thought I was a strange child, just some kid with dreams. They entered my private space, they broke a hole in the wall. Inside this wall was my mind; the answers to what we were seeing. These scribbles meant something to me, it’s like my brain created its own language. Its own code within its own space. Nobody understands this except me, but I know there’s plenty more out there who have this strange habit to do so.
Sunday was the day when mother was going to find out about Susan’s predicted results. I couldn’t let her see them with her own two eyes. It wouldn’t be right for her to know her daughter’s future. Time runs on a scale; this scale is no longer in service. Just like Susan, I had to hide away too. If she was to find out that her own mother wanted to know her daughter’s fatal blow. It’d be a real shame to find out before me.
Strange, I just said ‘before me,’ but I don’t recall ever finding out about Susan’s results. Yet, I remember her crying while her own mother tried to hold her down. It’s weird, I remember comfort. Soft, something that tried to block out the sound. I could’ve sworn I was in my own room that night. Somehow I don’t remember Susan having any memory of this. And why was the room so faded? Fading away before my very eyes?
Your mother tried to kill you.
That’s not right, she was there for me when Susan died.
The reality is that Susan was never with you in the first place.
If this is the truth… then, why are you telling me this now? Why wait for this exact moment in time to tell me that Susan was never with me? Why make a difference to the story that’s already being told? Flynn would never have let this happen. I don’t know what it is about you, but you act like you’re my friend. Although, you keep finding ways to manipulate me.
Think back, Andrew, she wasn’t ever needed when you were gasping for air. Susan wasn’t in her room when she died.
Blood. I remember sticky substances, mixtures of flesh, and that strong stench. It was intoxicating, I remember a woman complaining from next door, she thought our dog had died. You used toxicity to poison your own family. No, Susan was still crying when this happened. She never died in her room, but I can’t think back to what happened before that.
Trying to think back to that, it’s not hard. Just look at the facts: Your father was rapist, your mother was a slut, and your sister was nowhere to be seen.
Trading was a very large marketplace. Having enough storage to hold up a few bodies for the night. Some strangers would even take into consideration on doing the murdering themselves. Cops were all over this within weeks, it was an operation that was started by one man. And he doesn’t have a name, it’s weird that. Nobody seems to have a name in this world.
It’s hard to remember someone’s name. You’ve sunk enough time into the shipment of deliveries. Maybe, forgetting all this was your trade to the company?
Doesn’t make sense, why would I recall all this when you keep telling me what I think I already know. How do I know that you aren’t twisting this story? How am I supposed to trust you?
Family. Blood. Memory. I believe that’s the three words to make you listen.
Why would I want family? That’s the part that you don’t seem to be sure on. Is it crazy to think that I never had a real family? Sure, it’s crazy to think it. But we both know that family fell short that day. Forget it, I won’t make any more deals with you. You’re the poison in this world, and you don’t even see what’s wrong with you. Tell me, what is wrong with you?
“Flynn, I’ve heard it before. This same atmosphere that doesn’t go away, and I now crave that something. I feel without it… I won’t last as long as you did.”
“Don’t listen to them, they don’t know what they’re saying.”
“But you lasted longer than Indigo. She wasn’t afraid of you.”
“Fear is not everything, friend. It’s just a connection to something that you’re afraid of.”
“I’m not afraid of anyone.”
“Well, that would mean that your time is up.”
“Not even afraid of death.”
“Indigo would be proud of you.”
Not even an hour into the next night, and I’m feeling the pain from the toxins. Just before you got here, friend. I’ve taken quite a beating; a few punches in the jaw, an uppercut, along with a knuckleduster colliding with my soft skin. Still, I didn’t tell anyone what they wanted to know.
This chair doesn’t hold on the space that’s all around it. The four legs don’t grasp the ground, and I can’t even reach the ceiling. The walls are far away, and I feel like all the waiting is pushing these walls further out. Kind of like a tide, it doesn’t rise to my level. It’s just deep enough to make me think again.
Never mind, friend, I’m about to receive the full package. They’re coming in, one by one, and they’ve got that unrecognisable faces on them. It’s the same faces that I see every night. Not sure whether they come by in the morning to check on me. One of them always stands from a distance, watching me as I sit there staring at the wall. Another will then proceed to distract me with shadow dancing. Ha, it’s funny because I remember shadows back at camp.
When I was a kid, I was always looking for shadows. Shade was my number one source; I’d find as much of it as I could. Then, I would draw a circle around me filling it with candy wrappers. Dad told me that Susan would catch a serious illness if the candy wrappers weren’t down before dawn. He joked with me, held the candy wrappers in a box once. Trying to scare me, I was so afraid that even Susan was looking at me with fear in her eyes.
Once he spoke out telling us the truth. We felt safe again, and nobody was going to take our safety away from us. Dad didn’t last long; he went out too far. Came back in cuts and bruises yet Susan didn’t have anything to share with us. I thought dad was going out to find us some food. Turns out that he went out to do a dodgy deal with a shady character around the back. It’s weird, even our own mother was there just watching as we sat in the tent afraid.
You didn’t miss much; I’ve had my eyes on the clock since you got back. There were a few changes around me that I noticed like the stranger who’d always watch me? Gone. But now I can see that the stranger has returned. The chair still sits still, and I’m trapped in a room with strangers.
The slightest thing you’d ever feel around here is a little prick between the skin. Just near the back of my neck, I can feel the thin rounded blade dig into my skin. It burns for a good few hours, and then it sits as if time has frozen itself. Just as I’m about to pull it out, the hands rip it out with force. I’m left screaming in pain, and the man with the blade comes in again. This time I’m seeing medical tools, a scalpel that’s already been used. A rusty handsaw with some string attached to a scented candle.
What do I want more out of this? Is it the lighting, the light that brightens up the room for once in a semester? Or am I someone who just wants a perfect scent to remain in the room reminding of why this place is my holiday home? Maybe I’m just stupid, thinking that one of these things can change the way I feel about this place.
“Flynn, I’m calling out to you. It’s because I’m afraid, I’m afraid of what they might find on me. I lied, I have a fear for those who don’t.”
No response. I’m not given anything to follow up by, the voice is no longer responding to me. Whatever they used on me, whatever the medicine. It’s just enough to take away that edge. I need it in my life, it’s been helping me through everything. After months and months of just sitting here, I had a reason to not do anything in life at all.
“Send this to Indigo, I’m trapped in a room. For once it’s not me being locked in by my own family. It’s me locking myself in.”
“Flynn would be proud of you.”
Hours later with nothing to talk about. Except the medicine that’s flowing through my system. My veins aren’t reacting to the chemicals; my heart seems to have slowed down. Everything that I thought was up is no longer sky high. Everything I once believed in has been twisted by some masked fuckers.
“If you can’t tell me why I’m not seeing the bigger picture here. Then, surely you are not my friend at all.”
“You are asking yourself what you can’t even answer alone.”
“Would Flynn have stood for this? Would he have taken a shot of this stuff?”
“Making yourself believe that this is happening is enough reason to take an overdose.”
Just as that stranger stops watching me I’m left with the temptation to suck out the poison in my body. I just need to cut down the middle, breathe in, breathe out, suck the blood out like mosquito. This is a stimulant that’s going to put me to sleep in time. And the dreams that will follow are not going to be pleasant, they’re going to kill my emotions.
“Flynn? Check your inbox, I had to send you this.”
Input: ? ? ? ? ?
Back to the root_menu, I’ve seeing a connection from all these links. Threaded amongst many, we’re victims to our own actions. All this torture is not going unpunished; it’s being converted to silent murder. Quiet killings that don’t take much time to prepare. All documents of legalisation are thrown out the window. Some of these victims are being sent over to the database, where they will be stored there for years to come.
This means that all the new deliveries are going to be postponed, taken into separate rooms for brutality. One by one they will be tortured. All information that they hold within their capacity will be removed. Sweeping all this under the carpet is the easiest job for these maniacs. When we run out of time, they will remove all evidence from the area.
INPUT, this is where the deliveries going. KEY, this is where the victims are being used to open new possibilities. OUTPUT, this is where the victims are ending up. Using their corpses for other uses, then to break them down into delivery worthy information. Data will then be sent through the web, leading all those other victims who watch this happen to become just like all those who have lost their lives in this conspiracy.
That’s all it is, a conspiracy. No evidence, nothing to follow as a trail. We’re trapped here forever.