Static

Static

The sound of car alarms, yelling, and wisps of voices ricocheted down every alley, avenue, and engulfed the city in a never-ending sound of static. The underground subway rumbled the ground so hard some people swear it could split the earth in two. Neon light after neon light lit up late night windows all begging for a passerby to stop in for a quick drink that would spiral into a night of intoxication. High heels crackled against the ground as laughter rose around the 15 story buildings that surrounded this “15 Places to Visit Before You Die” city.

Hidden away from the bright lights sat a chaotic building, overgrown with moss and vines that crept up and around the barred windows. The large steel doors only let few in, and rarely any out. A revolting eyesore in contrast to a city filled with life, it held a dysfunctional ugliness hidden away from everyday society and those with a darkness in their souls so deep that no light would be let inside. “Criminally Insane” was plastered on all the doors to enter, this usually turned away the casual walker or runner who were unfortunate enough to pass by this monster.

Tonight, a new patient was being dragged through the strong doors, behind them trailed fingernail marks through the dirt as the patient squirmed and fought to get away. Three brawny men dressed in matching navy uniforms had to contain this small-frame female as she twisted, turned, and shook. “I’m not crazy!” she screamed, and her voice could be heard as a whisper as the city bustled in the distance.

Vivid images of bar hopping, and laughter filled her mind. She was out with friends. No- they were at a house party. The vivid memories faded one into the next as she tried to recap the events that led her up to this point. Drink. Drink. Drink. Her fazed memory brought up images of her adoptive mother and father. They owned a small ice cream shop in the city of neon lights, but succeeded with financial growth. Always overly strict, she could never catch her breath through her teen years of running to school then working. Scoop after scoop of ice cream as it dripped down her arms. She could still remember the stickiness of skin against a cold metal spoon.

Her blonde hair whipped in the wind as she was pulled into the building. The only sounds that could be heard was her heavy breathing and the thud of the officer’s boots against the cold stone floor. Before she could catch her breath, she was sitting upright in a hard chair being suffocated in a white leather jacket. The pulling of straps and latches behind her back released a song of metal and locks ricocheting in her head. Click. Snap. Click. Snap. The three men left through the big doors as she struggled against the restraints- freedom within her eyes before she was hit with the breeze of the doors being slammed.

Slamming doors. She could see the old wooden door slammed in her face as her parents kicked her out. She had gotten into some drug use and drinking under the stress of fitting in with her peers. Kicking her out never stopped that, it set a fire under her to become a full addict. This once graceful, talented girl turned drug user. Every fairytale ending never told.

Four walls closed in slowly, the concrete stained by marks of those past. Smudges. Marks. Dirt. Blood. The walls marked with the scars of the souls who resided inside. There were three long corridors that ended with bolts and locks illuminated by the flickering of lights. One of the corridors doors creaked open slowly as an old woman dressed in all white emerged and slowly made her way to the center of the room. “I’m not cra…” her yell was interrupted by an abrupt slap. A bright light shining through her hazel eyes silenced the girl as the woman towered over her. Not a word was spoken as she briskly grabbed the girl and started pushing her down one of the corridors.

The screeching of the chair wheels engulfed the residents, and the murmurs started up. What started low, quickly turned into yelling as arms stretched and grabbed through bars as the girl was violently pushed and paraded through hell. The girl lost track of how long or how far she had moved. The woman stopped at a tall white door and pulled out a ring of hundreds of keys. Ruffling through them, the girl started to struggle again and was met with another slap, this time harder. The woman shoved the girl into the now unlocked room and briskly bolted the door shut.

White. White. White. Suffocating in white the girl sat in the chair, locked in so tightly, it made it hard to breathe. White walls, white floor, white door, white jacket. Washed out amongst the laughter and screams she heard in the distance she closed her eyes and hoped she was trapped in a nightmare. Sleep quickly set in from the exhausting battle she brought upon the guards.

A shock awoke her as she saw the towering woman shoving a needle into her arm, through the jacket she was strapped into. It tore through the leather as easily as it tore through her skin. The girl let out a yelp from the brute force. The room around her spun as quickly as a broken carousel before she succumbed to unconsciousness.

Her eyes rose to blackness, before her, she saw herself. She looked down out of confusion, then back up to find herself face to face with her reflection. “What are we doing here,” the reflections voice echoed through the blackness. “What. Are. We. Doing. Here,” echoed again, this time more demanding. The girl tried to force out words, but nothing emerged besides short gasps for air. “WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE,” the refection wailed as she watched her face stretch out and become deformed, beaten, stretched out with dangling teeth and blood pooling from her eyes. The horror shook the girl awake as if someone had shaken her.

The girl examined the room again, awoken from the haze of whatever the woman had shot inside her. White. White. White. One white door. She looked down for the first time since being dragged through the doors and saw the straps around her ankles and her arms violently pulled behind her back. Blood congealed at the spot the needle had plunged into and dripped over various parts of the jacket. She was now strapped into a chair without wheels but couldn’t remember being moved.

She started rocking the chair back and forth, using her toes and body weight to guide the chair backwards. She pushed as hard as she could and while the wind got knocked out of her, she heard a saving crack of the chair. She started pulling at ever part of her body to find the seam, the one little crack. Her leg flew up in a sudden moment as a crunch came from the leg of the chair. She would have smiled if she could feel any emotion besides adrenaline and fear. Using her leg, she smashed and smashed at the other leg of the chair until it fell to splinters.

Clacking sounds made their way to her ears as the laughter and screaming arose around her again. The girl remined silent and sill, as to not bring on any noise. She heard the familiar squeaking of wheels pass by before she propped herself up, using her legs as support. She continuously smashed the chair attached to her back into the padded walls with no avail, so she took on a different route to free herself. She jumped as high as she could and landed flat on her back, smashing her head against the ground. Through her dizziness and trail of blood that painted her hair, she was able to free herself of the wooden fixture.

She heard the click of the lock undo. The towering woman was no longer towering above her, but face to face with her. Before the woman could push her back or stick her with a plunging needle, the girl kicked the woman with all her might and ran through the opened door. The laughter, screams, and arms grabbing from behind bars grazed her as she sprinted in any direction she could. Corridor after corridor she kept taking turns while more and more sound rose from the commotion she caused.

She was panting and sweating by the time she reached the big iron doors. There was one small lock attached that she had noticed the men inserting a key into. With her arms still in restraints, there was not much she could do. She looked around the barren room, stepping lightly so her footsteps wouldn’t cause an echo. She heard the heavy bolts of the doors slowly being unlatched and unhinged, followed by the screams of a new intake. She snuck around in the shadows of the room before silently slipping through the narrow break between the doors.

She felt the cool wind of night embracing her as she ran towards the distant noise of the city. She ran and ran, despite the blood that was now coming from her feet as weak as still protruding from her scalp and matting her once blonde hair. She started screaming for help, hoping someone, somewhere would hear her, but her calls were drowned out by the sound of night clubs and conversations.

She continued running until her legs gave out at the edge of the city, her screams of help were now a whisper, barely escaping her lips. The neon lights flashed over her bloodied and bruised body; her sweat glistening so bright some may have thought it was glitter. The distant sounds of people circling her were drowned out by the blackness she succumbed to before being shaken awake by a man in a suit. He unlatched her jacket with no questions. She got up and started walking in the direction of her small and messy apartment full of books and scattered papers.

Her small apartment laid on the edge of the town where you could still hear the nightlife but was not overwhelmed by it. She jimmied the door open with a key she left under the mat and made her way to the bathroom, stepping over piles of books she had laying around. She looked in the mirror and instead of seeing her matted, bloody mess of hair and bruises she had gotten, she saw her reflection staring back, mouth ajar, teeth hanging out, and blood coming from her eyes. “What are we doing here” she whispered so low the girl could barely hear it. The slightest blink to clear her vision and she was back in the white room, strapped to the chair as the towering woman shoved the needle through her jacket and into her arm.