ireallythought

Written from first person pov. In loving memory of a beautiful soul who was known by the name of Fox.

{TW/read with caution, but any age is subject to this topic unfortunately}

The smell of brand new walls permeated my nose as I stepped in the room. The covers on the bed so neat you didn’t have to worry about checking them because they were as perfect as possible. Random works of art, if you could call them that were hung on the white and beige walls. Throwing my things down I headed to the bathroom and was out pretty fast. I threw myself on the bed and scrolled on my phone. Another night in the many day fight i groaned as I began to feel my hand get heavy. My phone that usually lit up quite frequently had no missed calls or texts, I felt pretty alone.

I had no idea what time of night it was but the people I knew were up at all hours of the night. My foot twitched as I stared into space with boredom. The rush of the day had begun to dissolve and I felt my finger twitch as well. I noted it as weird but nothing crazy . I felt the need to lay down and stare at the ceiling my mind beginning to whir. I felt different, almost off. More of my body began twitching as my anxiety kicked into maximum. I usually didn’t care about being alone this much I guess maybe life had sunk in. Different parts of my body also started twitching and a weird feeling washed over me. I struggled to lay on my side but managed to succeed. I started getting cold, not just hotel room cold, I was starting to feel my skin become ice. This had never happened before something seemed off as I fell victim to my body twitching uncontrollably. As I went to stretch my arm out to the covers I found myself unable to move. I was paralyzed. I tried so hard to move all of my body or even just a pinky but to my disbelief nothing worked. The only thing moving on my own accord was my breathing. Everything else twisted and writhed uncontrollably as I stared into the crisp and very cool sheets. I was petrified, all alone practically seizing in a hotel room. My friends had no clue where I’d gone that night as I was usually off on some crazy sort of adventure. Red washed into my line of vision and I felt the feeling of complete and udder loneliness deep in my bones. what was happening to me? It went on for what felt like three hours or maybe it was thirty minutes I couldn’t tell. I was conscious but had fallen victim to what was happening to me. My body was growing weary from its uncontrolled movement and I felt like I may not see the sunlight in the morning. I’m not the most religious type more of just something out there type and I began to pray in this moment with fervor, fueled by absolute terror. I did not want to imagine it but maybe this was it. Dark, alone, scared, and helpless I lay there with visions of white and red unable to see or focus on anything else. I wished with every ounce in my body I could focus on a thought or spark spiritually or maybe just a hope of delusional grandeur, but there was still nothing but pure fear.

A bit of something washed over me as I gave into the feeling of complete and utter helplessness. This had to be it, maybe not how I imagined it or the age I was but surely I was going to stop breathing. Maybe these were my last moments of absolute horror, nobody knowing where I was or what was happening. I gave in and let it take me as I was tired of fighting with no weapon in a war that loomed over me that I was incapable of winning.

…

I went to try another time to move my body on my own accord and all of the sudden it slowly began to listen. I drew my legs after some work up to almost my chest in the fetal position and took it all in. What just happened to me? How did this happen and was I free of this bone chilling game of torture. Finally I was able to free myself from the bed and made my way weakly over to the bathroom. I think I was released or maybe spared. The handle squeaked as I turned the metal handle on the hot water the first noise I heard since listening to still. The water rained down as I stripped and jumped in the shower to wash my mind and body of this encounter with death.

Two and a half months later

I stepped through the door and made my way over to an open seat that had a blue book placed on the chair. There were others placed identical to mine with care, waiting for someone to sit. Others were filled with warm bodies of many different types of people chattering away seemingly happy and full of life. As the clocked turned to the hour a voice rang out across the room and said, “welcome to an open meeting of ————————.”

And that’s when I learned I was never alone.

To: Anyone who has lost, suffered, struggled, given up or will eventually hear about the phrase Every Eleven Minutes

From: hope