Opening my eyes, it was the smell of a sterile room that hit me first.
That sharp, artificial scent of disinfectant and chemicals, thick in the air like it was trying too hard to hide something rotten underneath. It crawled into my nose and down my throat until nausea rose from my stomach.
I immediately recognized I was dreaming again.
This dream.
I hated this one.
Yet I couldn’t escape it. I never could. No matter how many times I told myself it wasn’t real, my mind insisted on replaying it like a broken record.
Well… I guess I have to let it play out.
I didn’t bother trying to move. There was no point. I was basically a living corpse. My body lay stiff and useless beneath thin hospital sheets. I couldn’t feel my legs. Couldn’t shift my weight. Couldn’t even scratch an itch if I wanted to.
The heat and smell of sweat in the small, rundown hospital didn’t help my comfort either.
The steady beeping of a nearby machine continued its rhythm beside me. A mechanical heartbeat. A reminder that I was alive even when I didn’t feel like it.
It irritated me.
Each beep pressed against my skull, but I calmed myself. I had learned to endure; after all, this was my life since I could form memories.
Turning my eyes slowly, I looked at the TV screen mounted in front of me.
On it, a commercial played.
Bright. Loud. Vibrant.
And as if to mock me. As if to insult my situation. As if to remind me that there were things in this world I could never achieve.
On the screen, a beautiful model smiled at the camera with glowing brown skin. Pearly white teeth. Clear, beautiful eyes. She advertised some body lotion, her voice smooth and warm as she twirled gracefully.
Light seemed to follow her.
The world around her glowed.
She smiled again—radiant, confident—showing me everything I wasn’t.
I sighed and tore my eyes away from the screen.
And just as I decided to save myself from the quiet torture of watching something so alive while feeling so dead, the door clicked.
Great. Here comes the devil.
A woman in her fifties walked in carrying a tray. She moved without warmth, without softness. She went straight to the table beside my bed and dropped the tray onto it with a loud metallic clatter.
She didn’t speak.
That was enough reason to celebrate in my books.
Instead, she began arranging her medical kit in a calm, efficient, and detached manner.
She picked up a syringe and drew liquid from a small bottle. The clear fluid filled the chamber slowly.
As always, for a brief second, I hoped it was poison. Maybe today would be different. Maybe today she’d finally help me put an end to this nightmare.
She placed the now-full syringe back onto the tray, then picked up a small folded towel and the bucket already positioned by my bedside.
The silence stretched long and heavy.
Then she came to me.
She grabbed my arm and lifted it, leaning close to smell my armpit. Her face twisted immediately in disgust.
Well… she couldn’t be wrong.
I must smell like trash after all.
Next, she lifted my legs.
The sheet shifted.
Her nose wrinkled, and she gagged as if she were seconds away from vomiting.
“Could you at least help me out and not frustrate me by not controlling your bladder, you invalid?” she said, her voice laced with spite.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Ah, I’m sorry, ma. I would have gotten up, but you see, God refused to give me working legs, so I—well… you can see the rest.”
I said it as calmly as I could. A mild joke. At least, I considered it one.
Her expression told me she didn’t.
The slap came fast.
Her palm struck my cheek with a sharp crack that echoed faintly in the sterile room. My face stung instantly, heat blooming across my skin.
“Don’t ever speak about God in that manner, you twat!”
My cheek throbbed, but I kept my gaze steady.
“No wonder God chose not to heal you. Others go to churches and are healed, and here you are, trapped in your misery due to your incessant sinning. Hell is all that awaits you.”
She said it like she believed she was righteous.
I always wondered why God didn’t strike people like her down, considering how much evil they committed in His name.
“Well, I’ll be seeing you there then?” I replied, keeping my voice even.
“You… you!”
She stammered, fury flashing in her eyes before she swallowed it down.
It was beginning to get tiring having this memory play in my dreams whenever I went to sleep. Maybe it was time I avoided sleeping altogether.
I watched as she proceeded to clean me up.
There was no dignity in it.
She wiped roughly. Turned my body with mechanical force. Cleaned me like I was an object that had malfunctioned.
And when she was done, she grabbed the syringe. The needle slid into my arm with a distant sensation beneath my skin as whatever she injected entered my bloodstream.
She withdrew it without care and placed it back on the tray.
Next, she grabbed a plate filled with something that barely qualified as food. Pale, thick slop that clung to the dish.
“Here. Eat. Our patron is coming in today. You better control yourself. I don’t want to hear any more complaints, or else we’ll toss you into the streets like the trash you are.”
She spoke so calmly that it unsettled me more than her shouting ever could.
How could someone who claimed to love God do something so inhumane?
“No wonder God didn’t give you kids, because He knew what kind of monst—”
Another slap.
Harder this time.
My head jerked slightly to the side. My cheek burned twice as hot now.
I couldn’t retaliate.
So I laughed—a hollow sound, thin and broken. Having to watch all this happen again really isn’t worth going to sleep. This is the last time I do so.
My anger rose like boiling water under sealed skin. I wanted this nightmare over. I didn’t want to remember anymore.
“Seems you’ll have to starve for today to get some sense drilled into your head, you idiot. Maybe serving our patron on an empty stomach will right your senses. Mtcheww!”
She sucked her teeth dramatically and rolled her eyes so hard it looked like they would fall out of their sockets.
Then she left.
The door shut.
Silence returned.
I took my time enjoying the silence as much as I could, because I knew what came next. Haaah… Damn it. It won’t be well with whoever tried to crash the system. Now I have to go through this nightmare whenever I sleep.
Eventually, I heard voices outside the door. Low murmurs. Small laughter.
Soon, the door clicked open.
A man stepped in.
He wore a black gown with white and black lapels—typical clothing for a Catholic priest. Dark skin. Bald head. A protruding belly pressing against the fabric. He was old, likely in his sixties.
He smiled.
That smile made me want to hurl.
He approached slowly and sat at the edge of my bed. The woman—the witch—closed the door behind him after giving me a hateful look.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked.
His tone was gentle.
I hated that tone too.
“Wouldn’t you want to know? Well, if you must know, I’d like you to help me with a razor blade there and slash at my wrists. I heard it’s a rather quick but complicated process.”
I said it casually.
The smile on his face froze for half a second before returning.
“I told you to stop having such thoughts. God has plans for you. Why would you want to throw all that away?”
As he spoke, he rubbed my arm.
It was a distant sensation, but seeing it happen at all made me angry to no end.
My heart rate climbed. I could hear it in the machine beside me. My rage boiled under my skin, thick and suffocating.
And just as I was about to explode—
I woke up.
I sat up with an angry shout.
My workspace surrounded me. Clean. Controlled. Mine.
I laughed.
Joyless.
I lay back down on my bed, resting my forearm over my forehead. My breathing slowly steadied as silence filled the room.
Real silence.
“Computer, please play my playlist titled ‘Soothing.’”
Music began playing from the speakers around the room. Soft instrumentals washed over me, calming my nerves little by little.
Then the music cut abruptly.
I felt a presence.
“I saw the flare in your mental state. Another nightmare?”
A voice I knew too well.
“Yeah. Just a bad dream. Nothing more, Ms. D. How’s Mr. Ads doing?” I asked casually, turning toward the holographic screen that displayed Ms. Destiny in all her composed beauty.
“Sorry for the inconvenience. Mr. Ade—… Ads said to let you know the system still hasn’t settled properly from the recent attack by a certain subject.”
I chortled lightly at her correction. She hated calling him that.
“So what’s the call for? I doubt this is a social visit.”
She maintained her calm expression. She never particularly liked me, but there was no real hostility between us.
“We have a job for you. You will be deployed momentarily. You’ll be working alongside other subjects. In particular, Mr. Ads asked you to keep an eye on the troublemaker.”
“Sure, Ms. D. Anything for Mr. Ads.”
“Good. See you in a moment.”
Her hologram vanished.
Well.
This was going to be fun.
Kamcy
The silence stretched between us.
White space. Endless and empty.
We stared at each other, neither speaking first.
“Well, I assume your journey was eventful,” he said finally.
I didn’t respond.
“Well, seeing as you’ve served out your punishment, we can now move away from your unruly behavior. You have a mission to partake in. As I’m sure you’ve already guessed due to your little stunt, there are other ‘subjects’ here. You’ll be working alongside them on a particular mission to test out a new program. I expect you to put your skills to work.”
He spoke as if my willingness didn’t matter.
As if my participation was already decided.
“So how do you feel about meeting your fellow ‘subjects’?”
I stared at him.
Then I spoke.
“I say this with as much disrespect as possible, Mr.—FUCK YOU!”
The words echoed in the white space.
There was a brief silence.
His expression didn’t change.
Then he smiled.
“Well, I’ll take this as progress. Get ready for deployment.”
The screen disappeared.
Silence returned.
Then the system voice activated.
<
9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2…>>
My heart began to race.
Adrenaline surged.
And when it hit zero, the ground vanished beneath my feet.
Darkness swallowed me whole.