Unknown Abyss

Observing how individuals adjust to conditions has always been a subject of a weird obsession for me as I become more interested in the flow of order in society. But what if you turned the world upside down? I'm a sixth-form student at Christopher Whitehead who is fascinated by dystopia and has a passion for creative writing, intending to make you think.

All anybody could do in this bleak society was conform. Humans or 'subjects' are viewed as property when their rights are taken away. You were murdered if you panicked and protested against it if you sought to fight in any manner. Those in authority have no use for the weak, preferring instead to command a stone-faced army that they can deploy to fulfill whatever selfish desires they wish. To be chosen, to join the 'Elite,' you would have to face your biggest fear without breaking a sweat.

Fearful yells plead, and pleas for it to stop were all too common in the 'Devil's Chambers,' followed by a piercing blast that rendered us all numb. I would close my eyes every time I heard it, hoping that the poor and innocent victim would eventually be able to sleep.

Outside these white and crimson speckled walls, no one knew what was going on. Every day, we would be subjected to some form of torture. The pain was the only thing we had ever known. We were forced to be emotionless; we couldn't give in to any destructive emotions (since good ones didn't exist), which drove practically everyone nuts. We don't have names, only numbers; we don't know who else is here or who we are — we're all empty shells of nothing.

The people in white jackets and helmets with clipboards in their hands studied us, seeking for the tiniest trace of emotion, the tiniest blunder that would lead to them killing us without a second's notice and a sad face. Not even the most minor movement will suffice.

Someone would shatter every day, unable to cope with lying behind an impersonal mask. We'd all stand there watching as their now-empty shell crumbled to the floor as if nothing had happened, as if this was an entirely natural and everyday event rather than someone's eyes closing and never opening again. This would slowly exhaust you, and you'd either shatter or lose your grip on sanity.

Today, though, it looks that it is my turn. They snare me with no regard for my feelings or regrets. I have no choice but to stay a statue. They grab my limbs and take me through corridor after hallway with soiled white walls until a door opens, and they throw me in a chair. I don't resist it; I simply go along with it. My arms and legs are restrained, and my eyes and hearing are covered. Nonetheless, it's the most tranquil I've ever felt.

My neck hurts a little, and before I know it, I'm falling.

Falling… Descending into an abyss unknown. It grabs my neck with its claws and bleeds into my lungs. I reach out, hoping to grasp a hold of anything, anything, but all I get is silence. My limbs try to push me to the surface, but a piercing pain rushes through me from my head, my body opposing the effort. I'm engulfed in its chilly embrace, which is engulfing me like poison ivy.

I try to scream urgent cries, but they are muffled and muted...

Tears shout as my eyes hurt. My mind is racing with ideas. I sing in my thoughts like a bittersweet song, "This isn't it, this isn't the end." My silk white gown floats lightly through the barren landscape. I can taste a sweet, bitter feeling on the tip of my tongue, and I can feel it in my veins.

Dark blue dances across my skin, which has lost its color. My soul is sliding away from its shell, and my eyes are growing heavy and challenging to stay open. My body is gradually losing the battle, and I am as well.

The last thing I see is a sliver of fiery red and the firm grip of its merciless hand. When I close my eyes, all I see is never-ending darkness.

'Subject 4311 appears highly distressed.'