He is in free fall. A ticking clock. A pounding heart. Harsh fluorescent lights. The smell of alcohol. The room around him is small. Too small. If only he could—
“Who have you seen recently?”
The boy suddenly blinked his eyes open and looked up. There was a man, maybe a doctor, clipboard in hand and a stare so steady it couldn’t be broken by discomfort.
“I’m… not sure.” He clutched the plush toy in his hand, fidgeting with its paws. They had given it to him when he first came.
“I haven’t really seen anybody.” He spoke softly, so soft he almost couldn’t be heard. The man stared deeply into him, studying his face as if to determine the veracity of his claim. But then he nodded, satisfied by the answer.
“Okay, good.” He put his clipboard down and left the room, opening the door only slightly as he walked away. And then the boy was alone in the room, just him and the plushie. It was an orange tabby cat, soft and fuzzy, just like the one he used to have back home.
He looked up away from the cat and at the wallpaper. Tall, towering trees with cartoonishly happy animals plastered throughout, living in harmony and peace. It was peeling at the corners, and the colors had faded to a sort of grayish-green soup. Green plastic vines were strung over the wall, held in place by poorly-disguised thumbtacks. The boy silently studied the wall as the clock continued ticking.
Suddenly, the door swung open again and there was a woman. Probably also a doctor. She held in her hands another clipboard, and on her face she wore a bright smile.
“Hello, my friend,” she said as she sat herself down in the chair where the male doctor had been. “Give me one moment and I’ll be ready to talk, okay?” The boy nodded in understanding as she began jotting something down. She looked at him a few times while she wrote, and he shrunk into his chair. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears as she finished writing and set the clipboard down.
“So tell me,” she said calmly, “what makes you think about it?”
“…Think about what?” He looked at her with brows furrowed.
“About, well, what happened.”
He tilted his head.
“I can’t say what exactly it is. I’m not sure how you’ll react. But we’ve already talked about it.” His eyes widened in realization.
“Well, not much I guess. I just try to forget about it.” He began twirling the cat’s paw in his fingers, clutching it tightly with the other hand. She looked at him again, poring over his expression. Maybe she wanted him to feel seen, but he was just feeling watched.
She sighed and looked back down at her clipboard. Her hair fell over her face as she wrote something down.
“And… your father. Where is he, exactly?”
“He’s out. Out of the country,” he said, pausing for just a moment. “He does this all the time, though, so I guess it doesn’t bother me much. If that’s what you’re asking.”
“I see,” she said, her soft expression suddenly shifting. The boy’s eyes widened. Why did she look different now? More interrogative. More… sinister?
She wrote something down intently on her clipboard, shooting him sideways glances all the while. He continued nervously fidgeting.
“And how long have you been running?”
“What…?” He froze. His grip on the plush softened momentarily.
“How long have you been trying to hide?”
“That’s not what you asked me before…” he whispered, grasping the plush even harder than before. She cocked her head—robotically, almost—eyes widening and lips pursed. She stared at him for a moment, seemingly confused. Before writing something else down.
“Do you think it would be better if you were gone?” She chirped.
“Why are you asking these questions?” He clutched the plush to his chest and peered up at her. His fidgeting became faster, more aggressive. He glanced once more at the wallpaper, and the vines began to sway. The animals began to move.
“What could you have done better?”
“What are you asking me?” Beads of sweat began to form on his neck as the jungle grew around them. Trees and vines shot up from the ground, shaking the room with unsettling tremors. But she maintained her clinical stare, eyes fixated on him, that same smile from before, only now tighter.
“If you had the chance to talk to someone, would you?”
“Please, stop asking me these questions!” His breath became heavy and he shrunk back further into his seat. The walls began to crack, the lights began to flicker. She kept staring.
“What would happen if you just woke up?”
….
The question echoed in his mind.
….
The forest is quiet. His eyes flicker open again, taking in the trees and canopy above him. The blood streaming from his head soaks the damp soil, and he groans. He clutches the plush harder in his hands. The ropes, the knots. They weren’t strong enough to hold him.
What would happen if he just woke up?
(Note: I did not come up with this story originally. This is an edited and expanded version of a story my friend made. All credits to Keo (thanks for the inspo twin))
