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“It’s okay, Trine,“ Rei says. “I know you’re tired. Just close your eyes. We won’t hurt you.“
Misha smiles at me, a little shakily. I can barely see him through the space between my eyelashes because my eyelids are so heavy and I can hardly keep my eyes open. It’s taking everything in me to stay awake. I’m suddenly exhausted, but I’m also terrified. Sleeping right now seems like a terrible idea. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be exorcised, I don’t want to be tied up to this bed. This is all fucking crazy.
I want to be in my bed and sleep for like, fourteen hours straight. I think this might have all been a dream when I can’t fight my eyelids anymore. My eyes are closed and all I see is pitch black. I can hear male voices chattering somewhere in the distance, but they don’t sound like they’re nearby, and they don’t sound familiar either.
I should be in the same room as the exorcists, but I feel like I’m sinking deeper and further away from them, the pit in my stomach growing bigger as the mattress swallows me.
I fight hard to open my eyes, but I’m not able to. It’s impossible to do anything right now. I feel completely paralyzed. Even breathing takes a considerable amount of effort. I try to make my hands into fists, but my muscles aren’t responding.
I’m completely paralyzed.
Something’s pulling me down as water fills the room. The oxygen thins out before I can process what’s happening, and then I finally manage to pry my eyelids open. It takes so much effort I’m out of breath when I do, beads of sweat sliding down my forehead and into my eyes.
I look at my wrists, the rope around them suddenly thicker and scaly. What the fuck? When I try to pull on it, it resists hard enough to slam me back against the headboard. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do here, but I don’t want to just lie down here and die.
Something smells off and acrid somewhere nearby. I thrash my legs so that I can put the soles of my feet on the mattress under me and try to prop myself up. It’s difficult, but I manage to do it anyway. I hear the rope tearing before I feel it biting into my skin. I ignore the pain–it’s a lot, it’s making my eyes water, but I’m still working to ignore it–and I manage to break through despite the pain twisting my limbs.
This is terrible.
I can feel bile burning at the back of my throat. I rub my wrists instinctively, but that only makes them hurt more.
I want to crumple to my knees and feel the cheap carpet under me, but I don’t. I stay upright–somehow, miraculously–and fight to look around, everything in me telling me to run.
The walls warp around me, the room getting smaller, which makes the water rise. I can feel it on my feet, searingly cold as it swallows me. If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to drown.
But as I look around, I realize that I don’t see a door and the windows are barred. I’m sure those weren’t there before, but now I’m certain I’m not going to be able to get out in time.
In the distance–from outside, from where a door should be, I can hear voices. It’s them. It’s the exorcists.
I wade through water, trying to pick my feet up. The water makes it difficult to take long strides and I’m running out of breath before I know it. I need to stay calm, but everything in me is telling me to scream.
The voices are getting louder, but it’s not loud enough for me to be able to discern what the voices are saying.
Fuck it. I’m not going to be able to break down a wall, and getting them to hear me feels like it would be impossible. The water sounds far louder than before as it speeds up.
My first plan was finding the source, but I think I might not be able to do that. It’s coming in quick and it’s so fucking cold it feels like it chills me to the bone. I’m not a bad swimmer, but there’s no surface–and the room feels like it keeps getting smaller and smaller.
I blink, and when I open my eyes, the water is up to my waist. I grit my teeth so I don’t swear, the water icy cold against my skin.
I swim toward the windows, but I don’t think it’s going to do me any fucking good. Bending my fingertips around the metal bar is difficult. I’m hardly able to grip it, and I’m definitely not going to be strong enough to pry it open and then pry the bars open too.
Opening it might be out of the question, but I can always break the glass. That might not get me out of here, but at least it means I won’t drown. I try to elbow it as hard as I can, but the glass is strong and I’m weak, and it’s not exactly like I can run up to it with any momentum since the water is making it impossible for me to run.
I’m going to have to punch through the glass if I want to get out of this.
Fuck.
I know it’s going to hurt since my hands already hurt, and I’m going to have to do it over and over again until the glass finally cracks. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me, but I’m going to need to hurry the fuck up if I want to make it out of here alive.
It doesn’t feel like I’m dreaming. I’m hurt. And somehow–I’m not sure how, but I know it for certain–if I die here, there’s no way I’m going to be able to wake up again.
The first time I hit the glass, nothing happens. It’s painful enough to make me grimace, but the glass barely vibrates, and I don’t know if this is going to help me at all.
But I slam hard into it again, and again, and again. I hear something crunching. My fist hurts, my fingers are screaming. I’m sure I can hear the bones in them breaking. It’s probably my imagination, but it’s like they break every time I slam against the glass.
It’s making an impact.
It’s not a lot, but there’s a crack, and once there’s a crack, that means that I should be able to fully break it open.
