Recovering

It had been fourteen days.

Two weeks.

A fortnight.

It didn't feel like it had been that long.

It felt like it had been much longer.

I remembered it like it was yesterday, yet it felt like a lifetime ago.

I remembered clearly, the looks on their faces, the pain.

The blood splattered across the floor.

My blood.

And then theirs.

A needle had gone into my shoulder. I remember how it felt. I struggled against my bindings with so much force that they tore into me, and my blood dripped onto the floor, but I remained tightly bound.

I had been assured at some point or another that I'd signed up for this.

I don't remember that at all.

A lot of stuff is fuzzy. Is that their fault?

But I remember she came in. Electric blue hair. She seemed horrified, disgusted.

She killed them all.

One of them cackled gleefully until he lay dead on the floor with the others, blood pooling around them.

She'd freed me. She'd said something. I don't remember what.

But for the past two weeks, I've been huddled in this room. "Recovering"