She collapses into a red pool of her own blood and, as the room once more goes dark I catch a glimpse of the person standing over her holding a knife. It’s a girl about my age, only I can’t make out who it is. The girl is familiar. The expression on her face—it looks so familiar. Then the strange girl turns to me and begins walking forward, a creepy smile on her face.
Her pace picks up until she’s running and I snap out of my shock. I run the other way, forcing myself to move faster. But it’s not working. After what I just saw, how can I ever get away? Then…bam! I smack into a wall and fall to the ground, dazed. I can hear the girl getting closer…closer...I was back in the tiny room, jolted awake by a sound.
It was a low creaking sound, like something very heavy was being pushed forward, scraping the ground. The creaking continued as I looked frantically this way and that for its source. And then I realized the reason I couldn’t find it was because it was all around me. The walls…they were moving!
As the room shrunk, I pulled my knees to my chest, making myself as small as possible. I felt panicked. I hated small places. They made me feel so trapped. I guess the real reason I hated being trapped was because I’d been trapped my whole life, unable to escape. And I still hadn’t escaped. I’d never really been free.
The walls just kept moving. Even the ceiling above my head was lowering. The closer they got, the harder it was for me to remain calm. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands over my ears; blocking out the noise. The walls kept moving. I reached out my arms, pushing against the walls. I pressed my back and feet against the front and back walls but still, the walls kept moving. And then, when each wall was about an inch from me, they stopped.
I opened my eyes to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. The walls were still, everything was silent. I sighed with relief. I hadn’t had time to think much during the whole thing. Really, the only thought that had passed through my mind was that I was going to be crushed. So, once they stopped, the only thing in my mind was relief and happiness that I was alive.
And it wasn’t for about five minutes, when I’d finally caught my breath that I realized, I couldn’t even stretch out my arms or legs. The walls had stopped. They had stopped an inch from me. And there was no telling how long I’d be here.
I rested my head against the wall and wondered how all this had happened to me. The reason I was here was because of the Emily and the disease and… No, that wasn’t the reason. I still would’ve come here eventually and taken the test. It was a good thing we’d come early, because if we hadn’t I’d of had to leave Priscila and Kendall. The reason I was here was because I’d lived on the island. The problem was I didn’t know why I’d lived on the island. What did each person on the island have in common?—nothing, as far as I could tell. Somehow, I knew if I could find out the reason for the island than my other questions would all be answered as well.
Only six days ago, March fourth, I’d only just found out about the disease. March fourth…six days ago… Today was March tenth; Priscila’s birthday. She was twelve today. And undoubtedly she’d be spending it in some torturous place, wishing the day would end as soon as possible.
Thinking of that made me both sad and angry. How could they do this to me, to my little brother and sister, to my friends? But thinking of that only brought back the question of why they did it. And I was too tired to go on thinking, so I ended up just closing my eyes and falling once more into sleep. And for once not a single dream, (at least that I could remember), disturbed my rest.
I hadn’t gotten a chance to sleep much in the three days of the test and even though I hadn’t actually been moving around much, it’d been the most tiring three days of my life… at least so far. I had no idea of what could happen while I was here.
I don’t know how long I slept—maybe three or four hours. So assuming my estimations were correct, it was around one or two o’clock when I awoke. It was most likely because I was getting so cramped, in that tiny space, unable to move. Imagine your legs are bent and you can’t straighten them. Now imagine that at the same time you’re in a room with a ceiling so low you can barely straighten your neck when sitting down. You can’t stand up or lie down or even straighten out at all. In my opinion it’s one of the worst tortures there is.
I felt if I was here much longer I’d go completely crazy; lose all ties to reality. But I wanted to get out of the test. And I wanted to leave unharmed, both physically and mentally. Although I guess they’d already damaged me in a way. I’d always be scared to go without water for long and probably terrified of small spaces. So maybe I had been affected already, but I at least wanted to leave in my right mind, so I focused on remaining calm.
The next hours were torment. I tried moving my legs in short small movements but that only made it worse. Every time I felt like panicking I tried to stay still, relax. That didn’t help either. The one method that actually did help was closing my eyes and imagining I was leaning against a tree on the mountain, taking a break. I’d picture a cool breeze, soft grass and shady trees all around. And somehow, it made me a little more relaxed; pretending that I could move but simply didn’t want to. I tried to sleep, but it was impossible so I just sat there in the cool, dark room, struggling to keep my breathing slow, calm and at a relaxed pace.
I took note that the plate and empty water glass were no longer by my side. And in order for someone to have taken them away, there must have been a way in and out. I only wondered when I would find it. But what scared me was the thought of how long I could be in that tiny room. Would it be a day? Two days…a week? I knew I’d barely be able to stand a few hours. I already felt like I was being driven insane.
What made it worse was considering what might be happening to Priscila, Kendall and my friends right now. Were they going through all the same thing right now? Were they going through worse? Really, it could be anything. It could be way worse, exactly the same or much simpler. Would it have been easier knowing what was happening to them? Or could it have been worse, if what was happening to them was truly terrible? I don’t know which I’d prefer, but I do know that not knowing was awful, especially since I had so much time to ponder the hundred terrible places they could be and the thousand terrible things that could be happening to them.
Creek…After such a long period of silence the sound startled me.
It was probably around four or five in the afternoon. All day, I’d done pretty much nothing except struggle to stay calm, try to relax and try to get my mind off the people I’d had on my mind all day. At some points I would be seized by an uncontrollable panic. I’d push against the walls with all my might even though I knew it wouldn’t do anything. But I guess everyone does things that they know won’t help the situation. Like trying a doorknob even though you’ve just heard the lock click, or, when you’re looking for something, checking the same place twice even though you know what you’re looking for isn’t there. Maybe it’s a good thing we sometimes refuse to give up hope—because without hope you’re left with despair. And despair destroys people. We can’t live without hope. It’s what keeps us going through hard times; hope of better times to come. And that’s what kept me from totally losing it while I was trapped in that room.
Creek...the sound came again. It was louder this time. Then my back began to slide as the wall behind me moved. A jolt of excitement surged through me. Were they finally going to let me out of here?
The walls moved and the ceiling got higher. But, strangely, I didn’t hear the creaking sounds anymore. So, if it wasn’t the walls making the noise, then what was it? The noise had seemed so close; as if inside the walls.
When the walls stopped, I found that I was in a square room, about eight feet on each wall. The ceiling was about ten feet high and made the room feel more spacious than it actually was. After being in such a tiny room, for so long, I appreciated the space more than I ever would have in normal circumstances.
Finally, I could stand up; stretch my legs. I put my hands on the
ground to push myself into a standing position. But when I tried, I realized I couldn’t do it. My muscles were completely cramped, after hours of not moving at all. I tried slowly pushing my legs to a straighter position, but they were so sore and cramped it was nearly impossible.
I sighed. I knew I couldn’t stay in this position forever. Eventually, I’d have to move. So I decided to do it slowly. I inched my knees a little further away from myself then let my muscles adjust. Maybe this approach would work. It would take a while, yes, but it would work.
Just then, I heard the creaking noise again. And then a sort of rushing noise. Shhh… It sounded so familiar. I just couldn’t quite place what it was. Shhh... The sound continued. It sounded like…like… I knew I’d heard it before, but where? I felt like I should know exactly what it was. But, as hard as I tried I couldn’t figure it out.
The sound increased. Instead of being all around me, it seemed to be coming from the wall opposite me. I looked up, just in time to see the water come rushing from a small hole in the corner!
Water…of course that’s what it is! I thought. I hadn’t been able to figure it out because water running through pipes sounded different than water in a stream. But in the short time I’d been here I’d taken enough showers to pick up on the difference between the two.
The water flooded in, keeping up the same steady rushing noise. At first I just stared at it, partly fascinated, partly confused. But when the first wave of water splashed up dousing my arm in the cold liquid, I saw the truth. I stared down at the wet area on my arm and then at the pipe and steady flow of water coming from it.
Then I realized what was about to happen and gasped in shock of what it was. Because I'd realized, that I was about to drown.
9
The water poured in around me, but I couldn’t move. Would they actually let me drown? At this point, I knew I couldn’t count on them saving me. Really, it was like I’d said. They could care less whether we lived or died.
And I guess I was right, because the water kept right on coming, surging in from the hole, seemingly speeding up by the minute. And I realized I had to at least try. I’d promised Kendall I’d make it back. And even if it seemed impossible I would try, and try my hardest.
I pressed my hands once more against the floor, now two inches deep in water. I pressed down hard, and in one forceful movement, I pushed myself to my feet. I staggered forward, nearly falling over it hurt so much. Then I stumbled backwards in a hunched position, bracing myself against the wall. Without giving myself time to recover for fear I’d lose determination, I stabilized myself and then jerked my body upright. A sharp pain, like a thousand knives shot through my spinal cord and neck, and my knees felt like they’d collapse at any moment. The pain in my stomach was something I couldn’t put into words, like a sharp pain, but one that just goes on and on. So I leaned against the wall to give myself support, hardly moving a muscle for fear the pain would increase.
The water kept coming and coming, getting deeper and deeper. And with each passing second, I was getting closer and closer to my death. When I’d been dying of thirst, my thoughts hadn’t been clear. This was a much different feeling. My mind was completely aware and I’d never felt so close to death before. Not when I’d made my way along a rocky cliff on the mountain. Not when I’d leaped from one branch to the other, fifty feet in the air. But in those situations I’d been in complete control. I’d known I could handle it. Certainly if I’d fallen off a cliff or out of a tree I would’ve been killed. And I hadn’t even been slightly worried. Because I’d known I wouldn’t let myself fall. And I’d been right. I’d never even had a close call.
Somehow, you just always know the difference between a situation you can handle and one you can’t.
And, in my case, I knew I couldn’t get out of there. That’s what made it so terrible. Watching the water rise up around me, knowing I couldn’t do anything to help it. I hated not being able to do anything; to have someone else in control of my life—someone who I meant less than nothing to.
The water level was rising, now nearly to my waist. I searched the room desperately with my eyes, for any possible way out. Finding none I completely panicked.
“Help me!” I screamed, hoping against hope that someone who was watching would realize I wasn’t going to make it and help me. “Help me! Somebody help me please…" My voice faded away because, of course, no one answered and the water didn’t stop.
They probably were watching me, from hidden cameras or something. They knew exactly what was happening and they didn’t care. Why would they? If this was just part of the test and if I was right about them not caring about our welfare, then why would they?
As the water rose, I imagined there was someone standing just on the other side of the wall, just a few feet away, with no idea of what was happening to me. And maybe there had been someone there, but they might as well be miles away. The one wall that divided us made all the difference. The wall would be enough to keep them from ever knowing about me—and enough to keep them from hearing the screams of a fifteen-year-old girl about to die.
When the water reached my shoulders I stopped calling for help. There was no point in it. No one would be coming to save me. The water was probably relatively quiet, but it roared in my ears, right along with the beating of my heart and my heavy breathing, which echoed around in my head like they were the loudest sounds on earth.
When a wave of water splashed into my face, I was so panicked and breathing so heavily I wasn’t able to turn my head or even close my mouth. Water in my throat, nose and eyes, I gasped for air and coughed, feeling like I was already beginning to drown.
When the water reached my chin, I pushed up as high as I could get on my toes and lifted my head, trying to get all the air I could. The water splashed up once more and I swallowed a whole mouthful. Coughing and sputtering, I struggled to keep my chin above the churning waves.
The water kept right on rising and rising until it was too high for me to keep my head above. I closed my eyes and held my breath. Then I pushed off the floor, shooting to the surface. I tried to tread water but I was still so sore. How could I possibly manage?
They say time flies when you’re having fun. But I say time flies ten times as fast when you’re dreading each tick of the clock—because, the water only seemed to speed up.
I couldn’t tread forever, especially with the condition my muscles were in. I also realized I had another, bigger problem. The water would eventually reach the ceiling, and then I really would have no hope—no hope at all. But all the same, I just told myself to concentrate on staying afloat. I tried even just laying my head back and floating but the water just kept getting higher.
How could they do this to me? Were they just going to let me die? I should have tried to escape while I had the chance. Now it was too late. I was going to die. No, I couldn’t. I promised. I always kept my promises.
Higher…higher…Soon, there were only six inches between it and the ceiling. I had to hold my head up, out of the water while trying to keep the rest of my body afloat.
I was so tired—so, so…tired.
Three inches from the ceiling, the water flow seemed to slow down. Was it going to stop? No, it didn’t, but it was much slower.
I let myself sink to the bottom for energy and then rocketed to the surface. I did this repeatedly, hoping it would take less energy than treading. But I knew I couldn’t do it forever either.
The gap between the water and ceiling kept getting smaller. But I kept trying to stay afloat. I just told myself I couldn’t sink. I had to get back.
There was barely enough room now for my head to stay above the water.
I was going to get back. I had to; somehow. But no matter what I told myself it couldn’t change reality. I was going to sink.
One inch left. My lips barely stuck above the water, enough to breathe. I heard myself promising Kendall I’d make it back and suddenly I felt sad. Because I wouldn’t make it back and
chances were…neither would they. If only I’d done something, somehow escaped or refused to take the test, instead of just going along with them. But, I hadn’t and now I was going to die.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, with my last bit of energy. “I tried.”
Then the gap closed and I fell back, sinking…sinking to my death. And all I could think about was a promise about to be broken...sinking deeper, soon to be buried underneath ten feet of water. Then water flooded my lungs and everything went black.
10
Do you dream while unconscious? Or could it be that I’d crossed a line and left unconsciousness behind, to enter sleep? I don’t know. But during the period I was out, I had plenty of dreams—none that I could remember exactly, but they certainly weren’t happy or peaceful dreams. I rarely had dreams I wanted to stay in. All my dreams seemed to be freakish, creepy nightmares.
I sat straight up, coughing the water from my lungs. Where was I? I couldn’t quite concentrate on anything. Then all that had happened came back. The test, the flooding room— it all seemed like a very faraway thing—like something that had happened in a dream, something unreal.
Once I gained focus, I looked around. I was still in the same, small room. A door, on the wall opposite of the way I’d first come into the room, was wide open. Obviously, that’s how the water had drained. It would have had to be immediately after I’d passed out. Out the wide open door there was a long hallway that had an almost creepy resemblance to the ones from my dreams. There could be any number of things in this hallway, I just didn’t know if I was ready for them.
The Other Side (The Other Side Trilogy Book 1) Page 6