I awake, my head spinning.
I am curled up, my knees against my breast, my chin against my knees, my arms wrapped around my legs. I cannot move.
I am in a fog, and am unsure of where I am. I cannot stretch my legs, in fact, I cannot move. I am inside of a box. I try to wiggle. There’s not much room around me to move at all. I can pull my arms into me, but I cannot lift my head. There is wall against my back, above my head, and at my feet. My elbows don’t have room to bend, so my attempts to feel my way around the structure are hindered. I pierce the skin on my right index finger on something.
Fuck. It’s dark. I’m trying to decide if my eyes are open and it’s really that dark inside of my enclosure, or if I haven’t figured out how to open my eyes yet. I keep trying to lift my head from my knees, but I keep running into something. Something… what is the ceiling above me made out of? In my fog, I hit my head against the ceiling a few more times, trying to judge what exactly I’m up against. *crack* Fuck, ouch. It throbs. Upon my third blow, I start to panic. I can feel the tightness in my throat. My heart begins to pound, and my fingers tingle because more blood is now going to my brain than to my extremities.
Shit, Ash, just think, don’t panic, this is the last place you should be panicking… I can’t prevent it. I am afraid I will suffocate. I’m not sure if I’m really losing oxygen at this point, or if I’m only beginning to hyperventilate. It’s hard to say. I’m pretty sure at this point it’s reasonable for me to panic. I swallow hard. My throat aches. My head is throbbing, and the fog refuses to lift.
I’m terrified.
My consciousness begins to ebb and flow. One moment I can feel the pain, the next, I am released. It’s that releasing of pain that causes me the most terror. “Don’t lose your senses,” I scream, but no sound leaves my lips. Hold it together, Ash. Hold it together.
I try to breathe slowly again. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I am spinning, spiraling into god knows what sort of realm. Breathe in.
Out.
In. Not faster, more slowly and more deeply. My throat is so tight. I wiggle some. I’m trying to move around inside of my limited area. I’ve got to feel around, in spite of whatever unseen terrifying skin piercing things I might be yet to encounter. I need to get out of here. I slowly drag my fingertips along my box. The walls around me are cold, hard, and thick. I use every nerve ending in my body to paint me a picture of what I cannot see in this darkness. The ground below me is softer than the walls, has more give to it. There’s something bumpy on the wall near my spine. The tightness in my throat is getting worse. I pull my knees up as close to me as they will go, pulling my feet to lie flat against the wall in front of me. My feet, they are bare. The iciness of the wall is almost painful. It wasn’t that cold before. I decide it’s time to push. Let’s see if this box has any strength against me pushing against it with my feet. So cold it burns. Breathe in.
Out.
In.
Push. I swirl out of consciousness.
*black*
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