Personal Narrative Fiction

You sit reclined in the cockroach infested darkness on a bed that is not yours, but you find that actually, it is far comfier than the one that you try to sleep on back home. In your own bed, the rusty springs that dig deep into your ribs serve as a welcome reminder of cold reality as your mind swims in the black waters of blissful agony. Here women scream, children scream but best of all the men scream in a high-pitched symphony of beautifully poised terror.

The lights turn on at precisely 8:30 a.m. In the dimness of the filthy room, I barely catch a sheet of paper pinned on the wall. Scribbled on it is a single line of text that reads, "Patient 1923: E. Sutton. Ward of the Federal Rehabilitation Center for Juveniles.

I uncrossed my fingers and read through the first page, which was handwritten in calligraphy.

I’ll go check them out to try get some extra supplies. Nothing, completely empty. As I walked out of the house a shadow shot across the street and into the school’s rubble, should I run or check it out, what if it’s somebody else who survived. But in my little daydream I hadn’t noticed the creature emerge from the rubble. We shared a blank stare.

I skip down the creaky stairs, my feet making a sort of melody on the old splintering wood. My fingertips brush along the grayish yellow wall

As his wrinkly scratchy fingers, rub against my shoulder, then tries to touch my hair. I smack his hand.

Someone taps my shoulder gently, and I scribble my notes furiously so I can be done when I turn around. I cautiously look up at the front of the room, and the

I don’t know how long I have been faking sleep, but the slow creak of the door startles me still. I can hear the slow, lumbering footsteps, feel their vibrations on the floor. When they stop, I can sense him bending over me, his hot breath fanning over my neck. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Esther Miller.” His gravelly voice causes goosebumps of fear to shiver down

I stare down at the marble floor, my reflection completely distorted. It reminds me of how much of a mess this is. Mrs. Kraukovich stops and when I look up she's looking at me with concern.

And then Asriel holds onto your hand, the one that's not cradled against your chest, and squeezes it just a little. You feel a lot

As I set up in the bed, my phone decides to go off. I should turn it off, but I just look at it stunned. I can't believe it, I beat my alarm. After A few moments. I swing my legs over the side of the bed turning the alarm off as I do so, I stand up. then out of habit. I walk over to the dresser, I know it's pointless, none of my clothes are in there at the moment, I think to myself. However, my face turns into surprise when I see what's waiting for me.

My breaths become shorter and shorter, and I begin to hyperventilate. I look around. The only other way out my room is the window, and I don’t have time to open it. I have no choice but to stay in this room; I am trapped. The pounding on the door gets louder and stronger each time. I shiver and run to the corner of my room, terrified of my kismet. Chipped wood flies everywhere as the door is finally burst

I feel that same violating hand caress my cheek. I immediately snap out of my thoughts and recoil away, finally having some resistance since my neck isn't chained. I should've bit him instead.

Alone once again, my gaze rests on their door. Every part of me screams to run in with them, just to feel safe, but I know I cannot. I tell myself to bike to Grandpa’s house in the morning to pump and hide some water before the neighbors see, hoping that there are still vegetable plants growing in his abandoned field to come home with. After some time, I finally get the courage to leave the room and crawl in my own bed. Unsure of if the dampness of my face is from tears or sweat, I lay down and pray that sleep comes soon.

My focus is elsewhere. I pace cautiously over to a long table along the far wall. The table is littered with chemicals, needles, and strange looking knives. Horrors have taken place in this building and I have a plummeting feeling that hundreds have also died in this place. A blue file catches my eye and