I press my left cheek against the small window of my room’s door to try to see the clock at the end of the hallway. It’s 7:30 p.m., time to turn off the lights. What scares me the most about this place is the night; I’ve never liked the darkness. Today, to my delight, is different. It’s the last time I’ll hear the wheels of the cart bringing me that blue pill, the one that puts everything into silence. Tomorrow, I’ll be free. A park and an ice cream cone are the only things I can think about; I’m going to try to be good this time so I never have to come back here again.
I’ve never liked swallowing anything forcefully, so I turned such a simple action into a solemn act. The nurse, with a gentle gesture, asks me to open my mouth. I show her that I’ve swallowed the pill, and as if she were a programmed robot, she offers me a generic smile and leaves my room, closing the door roughly.
I lie down to wait for the silence to come. Gradually, the voices in my head disappear, and I begin to relax. I try to clear my mind and feel heavy. This is my favorite moment, in silence in my small room.
I start to feel drowsy, and amid the strange stillness, I hear something in the background of the room. In my daze, I think the nurse has returned, but the door is closed. I have the impulse to get up, but my body doesn’t respond. I try to remain calm, but whatever is with me has reached my bed. I can’t speak, and my gaze is fixed on the ceiling; no muscle responds—I’m alone—I repeat to myself. I search for something in the ceiling that exists, something that will bring me back to reality and snap me out of my catatonic state. As I search through the darkness and the monotonous ceiling, I feel a cold hand slide over my foot. I shiver at the contrast of skin against skin, theirs cold and mine like a hot skillet; my sheet and pillow become heavy from the sweat I’m exuding from every pore of my skin.
Both hands slide up to my thighs, forcefully gaining momentum and jumping violently to the sides of my head. The rest of the spectrum descends in front of me, almost in slow motion, close but without touching my paralyzed body. The movement is quick, and I only manage to see its face, completely white, smooth, and hairless, a single tone, with a strange glow emanating from its skin, which is the only thing I can see in the darkness of my room. With its sunken, opaque eyes, it examines me, moving its spectral face away from me, then bringing it close again, in a movement without an established pattern, as if examining my expression of complete terror.
«I just had to endure one more night, and then I was going to be free; I just wanted to be free,» I think to myself as I try to focus on the thing through the tears that blur my vision. It seems to change its expression; I’m not sure, as if it’s hearing what I’m thinking—»I hate the darkness,» I say to myself as the creature approaches my face slowly until our lips touch, and I feel so cold. I see a lot of light as if I’m in a blank space, and then nothing.
Mixpov 