Isolation: A Flashfiction Exemplar

by Kaiya Maclay

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Drip Drip Drip. The ceiling was leaking again, the gap becoming larger each day. Pretty soon, the ceiling would collapse, and the sky would occupy the space, and we all would be free. The air was frigid, doing nothing to rid the musty smell. I clutched my dusty, worn, moth-eaten blanket to my body as I sat cross-legged on the freezing concrete floor, staring blankly at the wall in front of me. It was a boring grey cement wall, the same as the rest of this place, as the air got colder than it already was. I wondered how long it’d take before they were forced to do repairs long past due. If this continued, we would all die by Christmas. 

Suddenly, there was a loud bang behind me, and I didn't even move a muscle. There was the sound of something sliding, and a clash as something closed. I sat still for a moment and closed my eyes, waiting. 1..2..3.. Once it felt like long enough, I got up and made my way over to the sound of the noise. A tray was left on the ground, its contents unidentifiable. Its smell, bland, its flavor tasteless. I grabbed it with both hands, ignoring the stabs of pain from the heat, and instead made my way towards the wall with the black window and sat down. Holding the bowl close, I breathe in the smell I had become accustomed to after all these years. 

12 years of being here, trapped while the outside world passes by. 

For 10 of those years, I’ve been silent in the presence of others. I’ve forgotten what it sounds like to talk to someone else, to hold a conversation with someone who isn't a wall. Here it's best to stay silent to avoid more terror.  

I turn my gaze upward towards the narrow window from my position on the ground, passing the time by counting the clouds — one of my favorite pastimes. Then I hear a sound interrupting my moment of peace. 

“Ψ-404 you know what time it is.” A voice calls out its gruff and commanding and forces action.  

I stand up, setting my now-empty bowl on the ground as I head towards the cell door. The guard swiftly unclasps my chains, locking a new one around my frail arms and legs. He turns without a word, and I silently follow him down the hall, keeping my head down to avoid the scrutiny of the tall, grey walls that seem to mock me. The guard turns down different corridors, only his black uniform setting him apart. He only glances back now and then to make sure I’m following. I’ve stopped trying to memorize the routes, the various twists and turns. This place is like an ever-changing maze. Finally, we arrive at an iron door, the guard flashes his badge at the censor, and ushers me in. He closes the door behind him, and I gaze around the also grey room, sadly, no pop of color. The guard stands at the door with his hands clasped together, his body straight, his eyes bore into me. It’s an intimidation tactic, but it's useless. I've already been here a long time; escape has long since crossed my mind. He continues to stare at me intensely after not receiving a reaction, he huffs and turns away, still keeping a close eye. Always keeping a close eye. I hear a creak caused by the door at the back of the room, an old man steps out, his skin withered with age and his hair silvery grey. 

“Hello again Ψ-404.” The doctor says with a smile. “Please. Sit down.” His grin widens and he gestures to the metal table at the center of the room. 

I sit down without a word and put my hands together in my lap, clenching them together. I know the procedure, this happens every week. I should be used to it by now but that doesn’t stop my chest from tightening. 

“Now remember, just stay relaxed,” the doctor replies, noticing my hunched shoulders, I relax them quickly and keep note of the grin etched on his face. 

“Great.” He says, clapping his hands together. “This won’t hurt a bit.” His voice drops off at the end and I stare at his fake smile. It turns my stomach, making me feel sick. 

He turns around and hums, blocking my view as he arranges the tools in front of him. He takes off his glasses and wipes them with a handkerchief tucked in his front pocket. I tap my fingers nervously each second feeling like eternity as I brace myself for what’s to come. Finally he turns around with an antiseptic wipe and waits for me to give him my arm. I think about not doing it and my gaze flashes towards the door blocked by the guard. I look back and the doctor raises his eyebrows. I stick my arm out and turn my gaze straight ahead working to take shallow breaths. He grabs it harshly and rubs the antiseptic wipe so hard it stings. He turns around again and I struggle to calm. My pulse is quickening, my thoughts racing, and I can feel tears come. 

 

Tears make you weak. My stomach drops; the voice is back. At the worst possible timing. I notice my vision start to blacken as I blink away tears from spilling out. I clench my fists and resist the urge to dig my nails into my skin. I stare down at my pale hands, and suddenly I’m staring into a mirror, seeing bruises and cuts only I can see. The reflection staring back at me is smudged with dirt, deep bags under the eyes, and hair in a mess from yanking it. Then it changes, and I’m no longer looking at my reflection but her, the mocking voice. She smiles and leans closer to the mirror. You will never be loved, she whispers. A tear trickles down my cheek, and she laughs, noticing it. Reaching through the mirror, she traces the path of the tear, then pinches my skin. Pathetic, I hear her murmur. Please, I think, make it stop. She only grins wider and it splits down her face, she leans closer and I have to prevent myself from screaming. Why do you do this? I ask. I want to scream at her, I want to beg her to finally leave me alone. But she knows all this, knows all my fears, my weakness. She’s in my head. Has been since forever. There’s no way out. I know this, and so does she. I think back to all the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the not knowing reality and the imaginary. Now I’m in a dark, enclosed space. I hear laughter, and suddenly she's all around me, telling me everything I’ve done wrong, pointing out my flaws. 

 I can’t control it! I scream. My throat is muffled, and she's playing me like a puppet. Thoughts spiral, and I’m drowning in the darkness. I’m pleading with her, but all I hear is laughter. I’m screaming earsplitting shrieks but it's all in my head no one can hear me. She steps out of the darkness, blood on her face and a psycho smile on her face, her head unnaturally bent. Guess what. She whispers a full-fledged grin showing all her pointed teeth, it’s time. 

 

I gasp, and I’m back in the room with the doctor prepping the needle. I quickly look around, but no one noticed what happened. Again, I think. There’s a clock on the wall, and I note that while I was under the visions, it had only been a minute. The doctor turns around the giant needle in his hand. I choke back a scream, and he's grinning. 

I’m hyperventilating, and thoughts flash through my mind. I struggle to take a deep breath as he takes my arm and positions the needle above the vein. I want to look away, but I’m frozen in place. I want to close my eyes but I’m immobile. The only thing I can do is watch petrified as he lowers the needle towards my exposed skin. Time’s in slow motion as the needle pierces my skin, causing white hot pain to rush through my system. It goes deeper, and I’m blinded by agony. I try to count, but it’s taking so long.

1…2…3…

My throat is closed up and I can’t breathe and I can feel her presence in the room as she watches me struggle over a stupid needle. Why is it taking so long? I close my eyes and pretend I’m far away from here, soaring through the sky, letting my hand reach out to stroke the clouds as I pass by. I’m pretending to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but here. Eternities stretch into one till finally the needle exits my skin. 

I yank my hand away like it’s on fire and cradle it to my chest, breathing deeply. 

“All done,” the doctor says, moving away, the stupid smile still on his face like porcelain and a doll’s skin. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?” I clench my teeth and look at the doctor with all the hatred coursing through my veins. 

My veins that just had a huge, gigantic needle piercing through my...stop. I don’t want to look, but my gaze moves to the needle in his hand. I can notice some remaining drops clinging to the sides. It’s purple. I stand u,p and my head swims like someone hit my head with a gigantic clown hammer. 

“You may feel side effects, but don’t worry, that's just the injection. It shouldn't last long.” The doctor is cleaning up the tools now, most likely to move on to his next victim. I mean patient. 

His words sink in, and a sudden feeling hits my stomach. Wait. Side effects? This isn’t a regular injection, is it? Questions swim through my brain, but my mind is becoming hazy. I feel a sudden feeling of a thousand weights bearing down on me. My knees buckle, my vision blacken,s but not before I notice her smirking and waving before stepping backward through the wall. That’s the last thing I see before I fall to the cold tile floor. 

   ─── ○ ───

 

I open my bleary eyes and push myself up off the ground to a sitting position, the raggedy blanket falls down from my chest. I scan my surroundings, checking for threats. It’s another cell. I quickly stand up, my head is pounding but I force myself to walk over to the wall on the far side and hurriedly scan. I see nothing until finally, there near the corner, a crack in the crumbling plaster marked by age, its crooked lines forming what looks like a bird. Its wings open as if it’s trying to escape this world of confinement. I rest my hand against the etching and breathe a sigh of relief. It’s my cell; they didn’t take me to a new one while I was unconscious. I know it's strange to feel a connection to a place that kept me in prison all these years, but my cell, which was once my prison, has now become my sanctuary.