|Lucid (standard:Suspense, 1181 words)
|Added: Dec 31 2012
|Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
|I slammed my jaw against the wood so hard that I thought I heard it crack. I gasped for air and tried to stand again, knowing the bathroom wasn't very far. I needed to see for myself that it was just a dream.
I stood with my back to the wall and looked around at all of the people in those chairs. I remembered when we used to be called here to sit and listen to whatever announcement was being made. I never really paid attention anyway. Well, not until now. In the far left corner of the auditorium, a man stood up. I watched him point at something but he didn't say a word. I followed his hand and my eyes widened. I felt my stomach twist unpleasantly as I looked up at the stage. Tied to the rafters was a woman: brunette, half-clothed, and dead. Blood dripped down from the present bullet wound in the middle of her forehead, her mouth open in a scream I'm sure she was never able to utter. But the thing that bothered me, I mean besides that no one else seemed to register the corpse and the man who had shown me was gone, were her eyes. The sockets were empty. My knees buckled underneath me and I fell, using my hands to brace myself so I didn't hit the cold ground. I gasped for air, my mind filled with the image of the woman, and I shut my eyes tightly. I heard the door open to my left and someone asked me a question. "Are you ready to see the doctor? He's waiting for you." I turned my head, my jade eyes on the woman who had spoken. She was dressed in a nurses uniform and holding a clipboard. I dared a glance back at the others in the room and felt the bile rise in my throat at what I saw. Some were lying in the middle of the aisle, some were draped off the backs of the chairs, and some were spread across the stage. But they all had one thing in common; each looked like the hanging ornament with hole above. "Emmy?" the nurse muttered. She crouched down and touched my shoulder. When I didn't reply, she hoisted me up and led me out into the lobby. Only it wasn't the lobby I had known when I was younger. It wasn't a lobby at all. It was a long, white hallway. "You told me you were ready," the woman replied before I could say anything. "It will be all right. I promise." Not far down the hall there was a room, which she led me into without discussion. She instructed me to sit on the bed. As I laid my head back against the pillow, I watched her face turn grim. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "but this is for your own good." "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely steady. My heart slammed against my chest at the sight of the needle she held. "Please," she murmured soothingly. She lowered her hand. "It's the only way." Her free hand touched my face, then, cold fingers caressing, reassuring. When she turned away, I felt relief wash over me. But the feeling was short-lived as she went to the door and opened it, revealing another person beyond it. It was a man, the doctor I presumed. He came toward me and put a hand on my arm. He smiled down at me; his blue eyes cool as he spoke. "Do you feel better since they're dead?" "Who?" I blinked, watching him carefully. Panic slipped into my body and I felt a way of nausea hit me. He chuckled and sat in the chair beside the bed. "Those people. All of them." Click here to read the rest of this story (76 more lines)
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