Blood
2,581 drops. The darkness is smothering me. I think it’s tampering with my soul. Not surprising though, I’ve been in here for 2,582 drops. 2,583.
The cold from the cement floors is creeping up my feet to my ankles. It wasn’t bad before, but the cold drops are collecting around me. I shouldn’t complain because my hands are completely numb. I would rather have cold hands than numb hands. If there is anything worse than cold feet and numb hands, it is being cuffed to a fucking pole with cold feel and numb hands. My fingers are probably turning black—I can’t see them, I just know that’s what happens when you lose circulation for a long time. Who ever put me in here didn’t even have the decency to let me sit. 2,584.
I pull my arms down four times, but the pole above my head stops them. I pull again. The metal pole is stronger than the cuffs, and the cuffs are stronger than my wrists. A drop hits my temple. 2,585.
“Two-thousand-five-hundred-and-eighty-five”
I stop pulling and stand there. The drop slides down to my cheekbone, across to my nose and to the corner of my mouth. I stand motionless. This is the first drop to touch me since I woke up. I open the corner of my mouth to meet the drop with my tongue. I thought would taste metallic like the awful smell in here. Maybe taste like blood but surprisingly it tastes like water.
Maybe who ever kidnapped me drowned some woman in the bathtub upstairs and left the water running, so now it’s dripping in this closet place. 2,585. Or maybe who ever put me in here is taking a hot bath to relax their muscles. I don’t remember how I got here, but I imagine I put up a pretty good fight. It’s not like me to give in to anyone. 2,586.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” I yelled.
The echo was short; it bounced right back. 2,587. 2,588.
I think I heard another woman scream--first time hearing something other than those fucking drops.
“I can hear you! Please, please yell again!” I replied. “My name is Cassie, I wont hurt you. What’s your name?”
I called for hours. I don’t know why she didn’t answer. 2,584. 2,583? Or was it 2,584? Did I lose count? I can’t lose count. I need to know how long I’ve been in here. The handcuffs get tighter and tighter. A blood stream drips from my wrists down my elbows.
I have no control over any aspect of my life. I would give anything to remember how many drops—I need to know how long I’ve been in here for. I put my head down and started to cry.
“Fuck!” I yelled.
I can’t hang myself and I can’t put a gun to my head. I doubt who ever put me in here is actually going to kill me. My kidnapper’s probably going to leave me here to rot.
I lick the blood off my elbow. I don’t swallow; I just let the blood run down my throat. When people are supposed to die they bleed to death, and the people who are supposed to live don’t bleed. If they do it’s nothing a Band-Aid cant fix. I’m bleeding enough to know death is close, but not enough die. I want to die.
I clench my numb black hands around the metal bar and lift myself up, like I’m ripped guy at the gym doing pull-ups. I brought my blood stained crusted lips to my right wrist. I turned my head so my top teeth could line up with left side of my wrist, and the bottom to the right. I slowly bit down. Blood melted out each side of my mouth, like ice cream on the edge of a waffle cone on a summer day. This is the first time I felt pain in two thousand and something drops. I lift myself again and bite down—this time a little faster. It tastes less like helplessness and more like freedom. I lift myself up again. I bite down and pull the flesh away from the bone. I swallow it.
“Two-thous” I mumble. “two thousand and something drops.”
I close my eyes. My body starts trembling. Blood pours down my body. It reaches my frozen feet, but the warm blood is satisfying. I open my eyes to see black. Nothing has changed. A bright light comes from my left and I see a silhouette of a large man. He runs toward me and lifts my body to the bar. I can’t see much, but it feels like he’s trying to take me down.
I whisper “two thousand.”
My body drops to the ground and everything goes black again, except this time I feel at rest.
-T
2,581 drops. The darkness is smothering me. I think it’s tampering with my soul. Not surprising though, I’ve been in here for 2,582 drops. 2,583.
The cold from the cement floors is creeping up my feet to my ankles. It wasn’t bad before, but the cold drops are collecting around me. I shouldn’t complain because my hands are completely numb. I would rather have cold hands than numb hands. If there is anything worse than cold feet and numb hands, it is being cuffed to a fucking pole with cold feel and numb hands. My fingers are probably turning black—I can’t see them, I just know that’s what happens when you lose circulation for a long time. Who ever put me in here didn’t even have the decency to let me sit. 2,584.
I pull my arms down four times, but the pole above my head stops them. I pull again. The metal pole is stronger than the cuffs, and the cuffs are stronger than my wrists. A drop hits my temple. 2,585.
“Two-thousand-five-hundred-and-eighty-five”
I stop pulling and stand there. The drop slides down to my cheekbone, across to my nose and to the corner of my mouth. I stand motionless. This is the first drop to touch me since I woke up. I open the corner of my mouth to meet the drop with my tongue. I thought would taste metallic like the awful smell in here. Maybe taste like blood but surprisingly it tastes like water.
Maybe who ever kidnapped me drowned some woman in the bathtub upstairs and left the water running, so now it’s dripping in this closet place. 2,585. Or maybe who ever put me in here is taking a hot bath to relax their muscles. I don’t remember how I got here, but I imagine I put up a pretty good fight. It’s not like me to give in to anyone. 2,586.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” I yelled.
The echo was short; it bounced right back. 2,587. 2,588.
I think I heard another woman scream--first time hearing something other than those fucking drops.
“I can hear you! Please, please yell again!” I replied. “My name is Cassie, I wont hurt you. What’s your name?”
I called for hours. I don’t know why she didn’t answer. 2,584. 2,583? Or was it 2,584? Did I lose count? I can’t lose count. I need to know how long I’ve been in here. The handcuffs get tighter and tighter. A blood stream drips from my wrists down my elbows.
I have no control over any aspect of my life. I would give anything to remember how many drops—I need to know how long I’ve been in here for. I put my head down and started to cry.
“Fuck!” I yelled.
I can’t hang myself and I can’t put a gun to my head. I doubt who ever put me in here is actually going to kill me. My kidnapper’s probably going to leave me here to rot.
I lick the blood off my elbow. I don’t swallow; I just let the blood run down my throat. When people are supposed to die they bleed to death, and the people who are supposed to live don’t bleed. If they do it’s nothing a Band-Aid cant fix. I’m bleeding enough to know death is close, but not enough die. I want to die.
I clench my numb black hands around the metal bar and lift myself up, like I’m ripped guy at the gym doing pull-ups. I brought my blood stained crusted lips to my right wrist. I turned my head so my top teeth could line up with left side of my wrist, and the bottom to the right. I slowly bit down. Blood melted out each side of my mouth, like ice cream on the edge of a waffle cone on a summer day. This is the first time I felt pain in two thousand and something drops. I lift myself again and bite down—this time a little faster. It tastes less like helplessness and more like freedom. I lift myself up again. I bite down and pull the flesh away from the bone. I swallow it.
“Two-thous” I mumble. “two thousand and something drops.”
I close my eyes. My body starts trembling. Blood pours down my body. It reaches my frozen feet, but the warm blood is satisfying. I open my eyes to see black. Nothing has changed. A bright light comes from my left and I see a silhouette of a large man. He runs toward me and lifts my body to the bar. I can’t see much, but it feels like he’s trying to take me down.
I whisper “two thousand.”
My body drops to the ground and everything goes black again, except this time I feel at rest.
-T