But
when I woke up the next morning, Stacy didn’t. At first I thought it was just
as it was before, when I woke up first and she would a few minutes later.
I
climbed out of bed, plucked my clothes out from my suitcase and wrapped them around
my arm before heading to the bathroom. Today is the last day we would spend
together before she goes back home and I’m heading to another hotel in London
for out concert in the O2 arena, which I heard is even bigger than Wembley, but
I’ll have to see that for myself as my mind is struggling to comprehend
anything bigger than Wembley.
Closing
the door behind me, I undressed myself, climbed into the shower and switched it
on. I often wait a couple of seconds for the water to get hot before stepping
underneath it. I’ve heard of these people who take cold showers. Apparently is
good for the health, but I’m not sure how freezing cold water running
uncomfortably down your back, making you cringe and move in ways never before
imagined is good for the health – then again, when has anything good for you
ever been logical, or indeed comfortable.
Except,
this time, the water hasn't warmed up. I checked to see if I had switched it on
properly, and I had, but it doesn’t appear to be getting hotter. Great. I
guess I could go down and complain about this at the front desk, but I don’t
want this moment to ruin mine and Stacy’s last day together. I’m sure they
would bend over backwards to make sure we get hot water, but by the time I
would have had my shower, practically half the entire day had gone and
therefore wasted. We could have done something a lot more practical than
complaining about the cold water. I’ll grin and bear it for now.
To
be honest, what I am surprised about is how awake I feel right now. It’s
amazing. When I woke up, my eyes were nearly stuck together. I slept well last
night, but that doesn’t take away from how productive I was yesterday, and no
amount of good sleep would allow me to wake up feeling refreshed. After that
cold shower, I’ve never felt more awake. I’m actually shocked with how
effective the cold is. It isn’t pleasant having the water run down your back,
but the way it kicked started my brain – and if I had hiccups, the cold water
on the back would be just as effective as ice cubes. Although, I wouldn’t
recommend, every time you have hiccups to jump into the shower; would be a
little time consuming, if I do say so myself.
And,
when I stepped out of the shower, I wasn’t greeted by sub-zero temperatures.
Normally, when I step out of the shower, the bathroom is literally arctic
conditions. However, this time, because my body temperature has reduced
slightly, the bathroom isn’t cold anymore, it’s bearable. It’s comfortable.
It’s amazing.
Am
I to do this more often; maybe. It’s certainly tempting anyway. I’ll consider
it tomorrow morning. I’m not going to let it sit on the forefront of my mind
for the rest of the day, I’ve got more important things to do, such as, spend
time with Stacy, who I have a hunch is still in bed, asleep. She’s an incredibly
deep sleeper at any time. Not even an alarm clock can wake her up. I remember
one time, on my day off, the loudest alarm clock in the world woke me up at 3
in the morning, but she slept through it. Stacy didn’t even stir and perform
the traditional roll over before going back to sleep. She was down for the
count. It took me a heck of a long time before I dropped off to sleep again,
only to wake up at 6, and she still was deeply sleeping.
When
I asked her how she could sleep so deeply and through the loudest noises on
Earth, she just shrugs and says, ‘I don’t know.’ She just does.
When
I had dressed myself, brushed my teeth, checked my hair, I opened the bathroom
door and sure enough, she was there, asleep. She hadn’t moved at all since I
left the room. Maybe she found that all important spot and her sleeping brain
is keeping her there for maximum effect. I wouldn’t be surprised.
I
checked the time on the wall – half past seven. Not too late. I don’t have
anything planned today, so she can sleep for as long as she wants, but it would
be nice to at least go out and about before having to catch the train.
I
have an idea. I’m going to order room service, not from the phone, but from the
desk downstairs. Then, when the smell of freshly cooked breakfast wafts up her
nostrils, I’m certain she’ll wake up faster than a startled cat – OK, not the
best analogy, but it’ll do. I mean, a startled cat does indeed wake up quick,
there’s no denying it, it’s just weird that I used it in comparison to Stacy
waking up later. Oh, well, doesn’t matter.
Making
sure the key card was in my pocket, because there would be no way I would be
able to wake her up to let me in, I stepped out of my room and headed down
stairs.
I
didn’t feel like taking the lift this morning. That cold shower really put some
energy in me. I decided to take the stairs instead. It’s not as if we’re on the
top floor; I only have a couple of flights to go before reaching the ground
floor, reception area. I made sure not to take them two at a time, though. I
gotten into that habit way back when, and was forced to try and break it when I
lost my footing and tumbled head over heels until hitting the bottom. Luckily,
I didn’t injure myself, but it was certainly a shock to the system. The hardest
habit to break with stairs is going up two at a time, because that’s easier
than going down, especially once you’ve gotten yourself into that nice rhythm.
There
was no one in the reception area. I’ve never known any hotel to be completely
empty, even late at night or during the early hours of the morning; there is
always at least two people sitting, entertaining themselves instead of
sleeping.
It
felt strange, as if I shouldn’t be here. Have I walked into the area before it
officially opens? That wouldn’t make any sense, though. Having a reception area
that closes for the night prevents people having their problems sorted out at
night, such as if their key card doesn’t work, or their beds weren’t made.
Even
though there were no one in the area, I’m hoping someone would be behind the
counter so I can order room service. The fact that it’s this time in the
morning, when it’s expected for people to have their breakfast and it’s
completely empty, that’s the weirdest part about all of this. However, all
questions aside, I have a job to do. Stacy’s unknowingly waiting for her
breakfast in bed.
I
step up to the reception desk…
I
stop dead.
It’s
not often I have one of those moments where you experience something so
shocking, your brain doesn’t know how to process it properly, and therefore you
just stare wide eyed, blankly, unmoving.
A
strong wave of nervousness hits me hard in the brain and stomach, knocking the
wind out of me, freezing my legs in place.
The
woman behind the reception desk was lying on the floor, unmoving – her body had
crumpled up and fell to the right, as if it was an instantaneous moment. No
reaction from a heart attack, no clues pointing to her fainting and wasn’t
cared for in time. She was just there, on the ground. I was absolutely
petrified. My heart was beating fast as the adrenaline from the shock started
to elevate my breathing, loosen my bones and muscles, allowing me to run. I
shouldn’t run though. I need to contact someone. I need to let someone know…
How
come no one has noticed her before me. Hang on, she can’t be the only person
operating the reception desk at this time of the morning, surely. The morning
rush would be far too overwhelming for one person. But, if she was paired up
with someone, surely they would’ve noticed her lying on the ground. Or, at
least noticed her having some trouble before collapsing, and then they would’ve
contacted the emergency services – preferably the ambulance.
But
where were they?
And,
there are no clues pointing towards having some contact with another person.
The stuff on the counter looks untouched, and there’s no blood on the ground,
no evidence whatsoever of something gone wrong.
There
has to be someone here, surely. It’s utterly perplexing that this place is as
empty as it is. Yesterday it was heaving with people. Queueing up against the
desk, sitting on the chairs, walking to and from the elevators and stairs,
entering and exiting the hotel. Today, literally no one besides me.
Stop
asking that and get help for this poor woman. I need to phone the ambulance.
Once I’ve put the call across and explained my perspective, they may even get
the Police involved. I wouldn’t be surprised. The paramedics may immediately
say it was this, or it was that, but from where I’m standing, there’s more to
it than a simple explanation.
The
phone on the desk was sitting right on the edge. My legs allowed me to move
over and grab the receiver. I was expecting the usual buzzing sound before
dialling the numbers, but instead, I get nothing. It has been disconnected.
Curiosa and curiosa.
I reach into my pocket and take out my phone. No signal. Where in the capital of
England, and I have no signal. How does that even make any sense? I don’t even
have 4G to connect to the internet to find out why the phones have been
disconnected. And why hasn’t anyone else come down stairs yet or have at least
wondered where their colleague has disappeared to?
I
don’t think I have ever been this confused in all my life, and I tried to
figure out why Stacy said yes when I asked her out… this is not a time and
place to start joking around, although it is a good coping mechanism in this
rather sudden dramatic situation.
I wasn’t sure what to do to be honest. With no way of getting in touch with
anyone, with no one around to notify them of who I’ve found, I’m lost for
options, my brain is not functioning properly… the initial shock given by the
adrenaline boost to my system has started to mellow out slightly as it’s
overtaking by the confusion of the entirety of the situation.
Nothing
makes sense?
I
need reassurance.
I
need someone with me, to help me help this woman. Stacy. I need to go and wake
Stacy, to let her know what’s happening. I need to go and wake her up now…
I
went from standing still to a sprint to the doors in an instant. I burst through
them, making the doors slam loud and hard against the walls, even chipping the
wall paper. I sprinted up those stairs, two at a time, not slowing down. My
legs didn’t ache all the way up, I didn’t get out of breath. I ran up those
stairs, only stopping until I reached my door.
Fumbling
around in my pocket, dropping the key card on the floor, struggling to pick it
up out of panic. When I eventually picked it up and lifted it to the lock, it
took me a couple attempts to slot it in the reader. I held it there for the
recommended amount of time, lifted it away and the light failed to turn green.
Sometimes that happens, and it’s incredibly annoying it’s happening now. I
tried again. Nothing. I tried again. Nothing. I tried for the sixth time and
the light still lit up red. My card was deactivated, and the woman who can
activate it again can’t, and there appears to be no one else around.
What
the heck is happening?
"STACY!" I yelled, knocking loudly on the door. "STACY, I NEED YOU TO LET ME IN."
Normally,
anyone would be yelled at by either one of the guests or a member of staff for
disturbing the peace, but no one came no matter how loud I yelled or how hard I
banged on the door. I was hoping someone would at least come and see what all
the fuss was going on, but no one did.
"STACY!" knuckles were red roar and hurting badly. There was no way I could continue the
way I was. Stacy hasn’t answered the door. I’ve been yelling for what felt like
ten minutes straight, my voice was starting to break, and yet she never opened
the door. I know Stacy is a deep sleeper, but surely even she can’t sleep
through someone continuously thumping against the door, yelling her name at the
top of my lungs. And still no one else in the hotel came over to see what was
going on. It just didn’t make any sense, and my heart was racing with
adrenaline, and nerves.
I
was beginning to get worried. If Stacy hasn’t answered the door yet; I hope
nothing has happened. I can’t get the image of the receptionist lying on the
floor out of my mind, and the fact the phones were offline. The only person who
I want to be with and make sure is OK is Stacy, but even she isn’t helping this
curious and rapidly scaring situation.
I
can’t just stand around in the hallway all day, I have to do something, and if
no one is coming forward to help, then I have no choice but to break that door
down. Do I have the strength? Well, now’s the time to find out, I guess.
Taking
two steps back until the heel of my foot collides with the door behind me with
a clunk that would have disturbed anyone inside, or at least made them look
toward the door with a curious expression, and braced myself for the impact.
Taking a deep breath, and a footfall half way across the corridor, I built up
enough momentum to carry my other foot forward and it crashed against the door
generating an echo that reverberated to both ends of the corridor. The door
buckled and I was sure there was a faint sound of something cracking, whether
that be where my foot hit or the mechanism against the frame, there was no
telling unless with a few more hits. So that’s exactly what I did.
Copying
my movements, the muscles in my ankle were feeling the strain of each impact,
but the door was starting to fail. The mechanism within the door and the
electronic card reader on the outside of the door proved to be a worthy
contender, but after the seventh hit, it finally gave way and swung violently
inwards, smacking against the wall, the door handle moulding a small crater.
I
was inside the room before it had the chance of bouncing back into me. Rushing
over to where Stacy was still sleeping peacefully, all adrenaline disappears as
my heart drops; my mind automatically thinking of the worst; no one can
possibly sleep through that unless there’s a problem… I’m afraid to check, but
I must.
My
hands are shaking uncontrollably as I slowly reach to Stacy’s neck, begging to
feel a pulse. Even if it’s faint, I would know she’s OK, and can take the
necessary steps to making sure she gets better; or at least I can try.
Her
skin was cold to the touch. Freezing even.
Oh,
God.
No.
Please,
no.
"Stacy," I said softly, a lump growing in my throat. "Stacy, are you OK."
She
doesn’t move.
I
shake her gently in the hope she would stir, calling her name over and over
again. "Stacy, please wake up."
A
tear fell onto the duvet, followed by another, followed by a stream as my world
around me crumbled away into nothing. My legs went weak and I fell to the
floor. As I fell, my hand caught the duvet, taking Stacy’s limp hand with it,
falling down onto my shoulder.
***
The room came back into focus. How
long had I been sitting here? My back had gone numb from being pressed up
against the bed, and my legs had gone stiff from being stuck in an unnatural
position – and when I tried to move them, a painful cramp shot from my foot to
the top of my leg, making me wince and automatically move my entire body in an
attempt to loosen the muscle, which only made the other leg move from its
position and cramp up, too.
A
headache punched its way through my head as my brain was forced to process that
much pain from my legs. I groaned and slumped onto my side, willing my legs
straight. Eventually, after what felt like so long, the pain went away,
although there was still a slight tingle where the nerves were still settling
down from pulsating rapidly for minutes on end.
Lifting
myself up, it was only then the nerves in my back told me they didn’t want to
be pressed up against the bed again, and so I had no choice but to climb back
onto my feet.
The
hotel room spun around me as the headache slowly went away. I was lucky not to
feel nauseous.
Stacy
was still lying peacefully on her side, not caring that only half of the duvet
was covering her. I was silently begging her to stir from getting uncomfortably
cold from the air in the room and pull the duvet back over herself, roll over
and continue with her slumber. But she didn’t. She didn’t move an inch. Her
hand remained dangling over the side of the bed.
Stacy
was gone. Gone forever.
My
world had been shattered.
The
image of the receptionist lying on the floor lead my mind to assume the entire
hotel has been affected by this mystery. What caused them to suddenly pass
away?
The
headache started to come back with the incomprehensible flood of questions.
Was
the receptionist and Stacy a coincidence?
Are
they different mysteries?
But
what caused Stacy to pass away? I’m not a mortician, I do not have the skills
to perform an autopsy. It could just be unfortunate natural causes. I’ve heard
of these rare instances where people suffer from this freak aneurism, causing
the brain to just stop working. Just by looking at the receptionist – once
again, I’m automatically assuming she’s passed away from natural causes as
well. How?
It’s
easy to assume the entire hotel has been affected, but considering two people
suddenly pass away during the night, what else is there to conclude. Should I
check? That would mean randomly knocking on people’s doors.
No
one noticed the receptionist laying there. No one popped their head to tell me
to stop banging on the door. If I head back downstairs, would she still be
there, unattended. I want there to be a group of people standing around – that
would at least answer some of my questions...
The
phone was engaged…
My
mobile doesn’t have any signal – and still doesn’t as I’d just checked…
Has
this mystery affected other people outside of the hotel?
Stacy’s
parents… they’ll need to be notified… what do I say? But if I can’t get hold of
them via phone calls, then… have they also been affected?
What
about the band? Have they been affected?
With
so many thoughts rushing around my head all at once, the incomprehension
started to make me go lightheaded. My body performed the only act it could in
an attempt to eradicate the unwanted feelings. I rushed to the bathroom and was
unfortunately too slow. Instead of throwing up in the toilet, it was all over
the lid and subsequently the floor around it.
I
may be overthinking this. I may have drawn too many conclusions from seeing
only too people… but it’s the other evidence as well, such as the phones being
essentially disconnected, no one else anywhere in the hotel…
I can’t leave the bathroom in this state. I had better clean up.
The
smell was potent and clung to the back of my throat, making me gag as I reached
for the towels, soaking up as much as possible before taking gentle steps over
to the shower and turning it on… no water flowed.
Is
this another clue to add to the already strong conclusion that more than just
the hotel has been affected? If it hadn’t been, surely there would be water?
I
have no choice then but to just make sure nothing is left on the floor and then
leave the soaked towels in the bathtub and then what?
What
do I do now then?
There
is nothing I can do. There’s no one I can contact. There’s no one I can flag
down? Well, maybe there will be someone down at the reception area, I just
haven’t checked since. I don’t want to leave Stacy though. What if her parents
are contactable somehow and they someone discovers Stacy lying there and with
me absent from the hotel entirely, it would look highly suspicious, and there’s
no way I would be able to explain away the mystery, purely because, who would
believe me? I wouldn’t even believe the story if someone told it to me. It
doesn’t make enough sense to be believed in any way.
I’ve
got to head back down to the reception area at least, because if there is
someone, then a) it would answer some of my questions, and b) they would be
able to help me with Stacy.
I
have no choice. I’ve got to do something other than just staying here all day.
Maybe someone would get curious as to why we haven’t checked out yet and find
us here, but again, that would be suspicious, wouldn’t it?
There
is no easy decision to make here.
The curtains were still drawn. The
morning sun was rising, blasting its rays at the window, but even though there
was a small amount coming through, I still needed the artificial light to help
me see.
The
area around Wembley Arena is always populated with tourists, business people,
or the general population of London; it doesn’t matter what hour of any day,
there will always be some people coming or going.
The
phones have been disconnected, there’s no signal on my mobile, there’s no water
coming from the shower, but I haven’t looked outside yet. I’ve primarily
focused on the inside of the hotel, and automatically assumed the worst about
the rest of the world, based upon the mysterious coincidence surrounding two
completely unconnected people, except for the fact they are in the same hotel…
the rest of the world may actually be OK, and the mystery has a very simple
explanation.
I
stepped over to the window and pulled back the curtains. I’m expecting to see
busyness, controlled chaos as everyone is going about their day, unaware of
what’s happening in the hotel. Well, there hasn’t exactly been anything to turn
their heads. I’m hoping there will be later though, when whoever can help will
show up and explain what’s going on.
I
wanted to see all of that, but the strength of my impulsive conclusion remained
firm at the forefront of my mind, forcing me to expect no one – completely
empty streets. No one.
The
sun’s rays hit my retinas – involuntary making my eyes shut in order to help
them adjust from the dim light of the room to the natural light outside. When I
instinctively knew I could properly see without constraint, I opened my eyes
and looked around from left to right, up and down, thoroughly examining the
area around the east side of the hotel.
Two
people…
My
heart sunk…
They’re
lying face down on the ground, arms under their bodies and their legs bent
wrongly, as if they hadn’t had the chance to break their fall and they had just
fallen mid-stride.
Another
person…
Exactly
the same position. Exactly the same examination.
The
entire walkway outside the hotel is covered with people who probably never saw
what happened… just passed away.
This
only but strengthens my theory about the mystery not only affecting the hotel,
but the rest of the world… well, the world is a big place… maybe it’s only a
small section within the city of London, because even the capital of England is
a big place.
I
can’t bear to look at the disturbing sight outside and turn around…
That’s
when I noticed the TV. Of course, if the TV works, then they definitely would
have some story relating to what’s going on. Now, where did I put that remote.
My
heart was pumping from seeing the apocalyptic sight outside, and from the anticipation
of what may be explained on TV.
Ah,
the remote was left on the table beside our bed. I placed it there yesterday
just before turning in for bed after I thought about watching something but
ultimately decided against it as I was just too tired from the day’s busy
shopping spree.
Grabbing
the remote with some amount of enthusiasm, pressing the power on button hard,
the TV flickered on and… my shoulders slumped. Nothing but the ‘no signal’
message in the middle of the screen.
Maybe
I have just got it on the wrong format. Rapidly flicking through every format
the TV has to offer, nothing appeared on the screen… which makes sense because
the phone was disconnected and I have no signal on my mobile, so maybe whatever
is blocking those devices is also interrupting the signal for the TV. Which
means I would have to go somewhere that does have working TV, which means
leaving the hotel, which means leaving Stacy, which means if anyone comes along
and finds her, I could be seen as suspicious… wouldn’t I been as such anyway
considering I appear to be the only surviving person of this mystery?
There’s
so much going through my mind. That headache hasn’t gone away, but after
splattering the bathroom earlier, the pain did reduce. However, with the recent
revelations, it’s come back with a vengeance and the room has started to spin
once more, and my stomach was not liking it one bit.
This
time, I managed to lift the toilet lid before…
I
went to flush, and it did, but there was no indication that it was refilling.
As
that was my second time rushing to the bathroom, coupled with not having
anything to eat and drink since last evening, I felt weak. My legs and hands
were shaking, my vision was going blurry as tears streamed down my cheeks,
making me even more dehydrated. Not only is my stomach suffering from the shock
of what’s happening around me – or in this case, what’s not happening around
me, it also has to contend with no nourishment. It was actually difficult
getting back onto my feet.
This
is a nightmare. Except it’s real. The only reason why I know it’s real is how
intense all my feelings are. Feeling sick, being ill, aching all over – no
matter how powerful anyone’s brain is, it wouldn’t be able to simulate this
amount of intense emotional trauma.
I’ve
had my fair share of nightmares when I was young. My mum and dad would rush
into my room when I was kicking and screaming in my sleep. They would wake me
up and calm me down, even let me sleep in their bed. I’ve had clowns chasing me
down the street, teachers mocking me for being stupid, people laughing at me
for being naked in class, my mum and dad shouting at me for reasons the dream
won’t explain to me, and my own bedroom walls closing in on me.
I
tried changing my diet on the advice from my doctor, but still they persisted. In
the end, the doctors concluded that it’s my brain reacting to the development
of itself – which only made me terrified of puberty. Then, a couple of weeks
went by, then a couple of months, and it was only when half a year went by that
I realised I hadn’t had a nightmare for a while. They just suddenly and
naturally stopped, which was a massive relief to say the least. I absolutely
hated every single one of my intense, scarily-real-like atmosphere my
nightmare’s created. There were genuine moments when I firmly believed a couple
of my nightmares actually happened. I woke up in a cold sweat actually shaking,
with the concrete confidence I had robbed a place and suffered the consequences
of getting caught by my parents.
That
terrible sensation was the worst my nightmare’s ever got, but even that crashes
and burns compared how I’m feeling now. That morning, I had a thought, "if that
dream felt anymore real, it would be real."
Today,
that thought has come true. It feels more real, therefore, it’s real. I am
living in a nightmare. I’ve been tormented by them most of my childhood, I’m
now being tormented by one again, and this time, there’s no waking up at the
end…
How
are my parents?
Oh,
God.
What
if this mystery has affected them as well? That means… I really hope they’re
OK, but there’s no way of finding out. I can’t contact anybody, and they live
so over sixty miles away, and I can’t just leave Stacy to go and check up on my
parents – there has to be some way I can get help. My muddled brain is
preventing me from creating any good ideas; it’s only struggling to comprehend
the thoughts I’m having now.
Having
to process the possibility that my parents are in the same state as Stacy, and
the receptionist downstairs is insufferable. It’s OK to accept that they won’t
be around forever, but actually, possibly living through that moment is
unbearable.
I
hadn’t moved from the spot in the bathroom. I was only managed to stand up. It
was my subconscious keeping me glued to this spot anticipating round three.
Unfortunately, with the thoughts of my parents, my stomach may be defeated
again. I want to find out if they’re OK. I want to find out now. But there’s no
way to do that.
I
want to run all the way from here to their house. I want to burst through the
front door and see them sitting on the sofa, peacefully watching TV like
nothing remotely devastating has ever happened, and I want them to question why
I’m so exhausted and flustered and I want them to hug me like they did when I
was young and tell me everything’s going to be alright. I want them to help me
solve this mystery. I want them to make everything right, like they always
succeeded in doing back when I was a young boy.
I
want Stacy to wake up within the next second. I want her to tell laugh how deep
she slept. I want her to tell me off for panicking about something so extreme,
and then tell me that we’re going to laugh about this in the next month or too,
and then I would regroup with my band and move on.
This
was supposed to be our last day together before Stacy and I went our separate
ways once more. She was going home and I was returning to the UK tour. Our next
was supposed to be the O2.
But
it doesn’t matter how much I want it to happen, it hasn’t yet, and I very much
doubt it will ever happen.
I’m
lost as to what to do.
My
legs gave way underneath me and I fell to the floor with a thump.
What
happens if I fall asleep? Will I wake up in my bed? Is this really all just a
nightmare; a fictional nightmare? What if I wake up in the bathroom having
slept walked here? I wouldn’t mind that because I would at least know this
reality isn’t the truth, but instead completely, totally, one-hundred percent
fake…
I’m
sitting on the floor, my legs curled under my body, the upper half keeping me
upright, but even that’s starting to quickly weaken. All I want to do is lie
down on the floor and close my eyes and sleep. I don’t care for how long, I
just want to sleep.
I
wasn’t in control. My muscles forced me to lie down, because it’s much more
comfortable than sitting upright. The moment I was fully down on the floor, and
relaxed my body, letting all muscles loosen up – the hard floor felt so comfy.
I
hadn’t checked the time since I awoke. It has certainly felt like it’s been a
long time, but for all I know, hours could have gone by. All I want to do now
is close my eyes.
What
will happen when I open them again?
Will
this mystery be proven as just a strong nightmare caused by something I ate
last night?
Will
this all be something that can be easily cured when I see a doctor. I mean,
over these last few days a lot has happened, battering the sensors in every
which way. I played my first ever concert in an arena; I sung to thousands of
people and played guitar. I spent time with my girlfriend, the love of my life,
Stacy. These last two days have been intense, exhausting – so it does make some
sort of sense that the nightmares would restart, but even if I expected them
to, surely when they’re this strong there’s something wrong somewhere.
Maybe
this is just a one off… I can’t be sure of that. If I wake up in the real
world, I will have to get this checked out by the doctor, otherwise they may
even get worse, and I don’t want to begin thinking about how bad they could get
from this.
My
eyelids were barely keeping themselves up. Every blink takes longer and longer
to perform.
I’m
fading fast.
I
close my eyes and don’t open them, drifting off to sleep.
***
The aching pains in my side broke
my sleep. I was still lying on the floor of the bathroom, and my eyes are
remaining firmly closed for now. I’m afraid to open them for what I might find.
There’s still that possibility I slept walked and just laid down on the
bathroom floor. If that’s the case, maybe Stacy would walk in and find me here.
It would give her a heck of a fright, but it would confirm she’s OK, and that
what I experienced was indeed all a fictitious nightmare.
With
my eyes closed however, my senses were amplified. I could hear my own heartbeat
thumping against my ribcage, and the air rushing in and out of my nasal
passage. How long would I have to wait to be discovered? I don’t think my body
would want me to answer that, it’s protesting with extreme aching in my side
from being pressed up against a hard floor in such an awkward position for
unknown hours.
Before
making a move towards sitting up straight, a foul stench started wafting up my
nose. It was harsh and absolutely ransom. It smelt like… vomit…
I
did throw up in my nightmare, and I left soaked towels in the bathtub… Oh, no…
I’m
hoping there’s another explanation for the smell. There has to be.
A
shooting pain shot through my side, forcing me to wince, which only made the
pain so much worse. I have no choice but to sit up straight, and when I did, I
groaned loudly. With my muscles being relieved of that amount of pressure, it
did hurt a lot, but it soon settled down.
If
I open my eyes, what am I to find. Hopefully a perfectly healthy Stacy, a busy
hotel, a packed street outside, and another normal day that would tick on by
like every other. Of course, I would need advice regarding the intensity of
that nightmare, but if I know it to be fake, then that would help a lot, I’m
sure. Hopefully my subconscious would do me that favour for me, because if I
have too many of those nightmares, I might have to take some time off touring,
and I can’t disappoint the band, not since this is such a massive opportunity.
That
horrid smell grew stronger the longer my eyes remained closed.
I’ve
got to open them at some point, so why not now.
The
bathroom looks exactly the same as it did in my dream, but then again, I didn’t
move anything anyway, and if there is any detail different from that fake
bathroom, I was obviously too distracted to notice it. However, that absolutely
awful smell is still persisting.
Unfolding
my body and standing up, forcing my muscles to work after being stiff for many
hours, I take a look in the bathroom and… the towels were there, soaked,
exactly how they were in the nightmare…
Oh,
no, Stacy. I turn on the spot, forgetting about all pains and rush into the
bedroom. Stacy’s asleep in bed, in the exact position she was in my nightmare.
All peaceful looking.
Was
that all real?
I
don’t think it was a nightmare.
It
has to be a nightmare.
I
don’t think it’s possible to go to sleep in a dream only to wake up in the same
position as you were before. I was definitely asleep, I felt myself drift off.
The
corner of my eye was lit up by a twinkle of light outside the window, and when
I spun my head to see, it was surprising to notice it was night. When I went to
sleep, it was day, and now it’s night.
Along
with the towels in the bathtub, Stacy in the same position, the fact that it’s
night outside indicating time has moved forward, my heart is sinking lower and
lower the more it becomes apparent that what I experienced earlier was indeed
real, not a fictional world created by my brain.
Stacy
is really gone.
The
receptionist is really gone.
The
phones have been disconnected, along with my mobile not having any signal, and
the TV.
Outside,
there’re people sprawled about the pavement.
There
really isn’t a way to contact my parents.
There
really isn’t a way to contact anyone who can help without leaving this room,
leaving Stacy on her own.
And
somehow, I haven’t been affected. Whatever this mystery is, it hasn’t caught
me.
There
really isn’t an explanation.
There
really isn’t anything or anyone who can help.
I’m
actually living in a real life nightmare.
Now
what?
There’s
nothing I can do.
That
belief I had upon going to sleep has been shattered.
Another
twinkle of light shone through the window, catching my eye for a second time.
It was only a sliver and lasts less than a second, but it’s definitely there.
I’m not imagining it, I don’t think. I’m having a hard time trying to
distinguish between fact and fiction at the moment, but I am pretty sure that
light is there. I stared at the window, waiting for it to shine through again,
but unfortunately, it didn’t, which doesn’t exactly help my already confused
and shattered brain.
If
I can get an answer to one of my questions, maybe it would aid towards
relieving my brain of a mystery. I doubt it would help much, but it would be a
start; probably.
Shuffling
over to the window on legs that refuse to work properly, I pulled back the
curtains and looked out the window. It was pitch black. No lights. All I saw
was my reflection staring straight at me – my tired, nervous, defeated face,
with hair sticking in all directions from not being maintained enough – I
looked like a complete wreck.
Leaning
over, pressing my face up against the window in an attempt to cancel out my
reflection and have a decent view outside, eagerly awaiting the source of the
light, but there was nothing but the night sky.
The
stars are out, which is rare for London, with all that light pollution. Maybe
that’s what it was, just the light from one of the stars. The night sky does
look beautiful, I have to admit, despite the circumstances below it.
And
then I saw it. The source of the light. It was moving, and waving around, like
someone was waving a torch from side to side, trying to see where they were
walking.
Like
someone waving a torch from side to side.
Like
someone… could it really be someone down there. The light was definitely moving
steadily across the pavement down below, but it was too dark to make out any
specific shapes, but if that is indeed another person, and they’re walking
through the apocalyptic scene, then I need to talk to them now. Right this very
moment. They may know something – possibly everything. They may be able to
help.
So
what am I waiting for. I need to get down there, and fast.
"I
will come back, I promise," I said to Stacy, and I ran. I ran across the room,
flung open the door increasing the dent I put there earlier, and sprinted
across the corridor. My shoulder smacked so hard against the doors leading to
the stairs, I cried out in pain, and nearly tripped over my own feet and
subsequently the stairs. How I managed to stop in time before falling down them
was just another mystery to be added to the list, albeit, probably with less
priority than the others. Once I had regained some posture, the adrenaline and
excitement of meeting another person dampened the pain so much so, I was able
to sprint down the stairs, two at a time. I could feel my legs straining; if I
were to go any faster, I would fall forward and injure myself more than I
already have, or worse, which won’t do me or Stacy any good.
From
my floor to the bottom, I didn’t stop until I burst through the doors at the
reception area. For the first time today, I will be stepping outside in the
dark, cold air.
The
floor was made of marble, and it had been scrubbed clean to the point where no
matter what footwear you had on your feet, they would slip about, which means,
to someone who’s sprinting across the floor and having to stop suddenly, I
didn’t. Instead, I skidded standing up and only stopped moving until I smacked
hard against the glass door. My head bounced off. Stars popped in and out just
before my eyes. I groaned in pain whilst also pulling the door open… except it
wouldn’t open. It’s locked.
It
can’t be locked though; this hotel is open 24/7. Everyone can enter and leave
at any time of day or night.
Ah,
it’s electric. They open automatically, and with no electricity, they can’t
open. I’d thought, if there is no electricity going to the door, that’s classed
as an emergency situation, the doors shouldn’t lock themselves, they should
just become dead weights that take either a strong person or two people to
open.
Oh,
what does it matter. Smash the glass.
With
what…
That
person has probably long gone by now, there’s no chance I’ll catch up with them.
The
pain in my shoulder and forehead pulsated harshly, preventing me from thinking
clearly. I’m covered in sweat from moving so fast, and my heart is beating
rapidly, painting a tattoo against my ribcage. I’m not breathing in enough to
compensate what oxygen I’ve lost during the run down and so my head is starting
to feel lighter than usual.
I
can’t afford to pass out now. I have to meet this person. I absolutely have to,
no questions asked, and nothing’s going to get in my way, not even this pane of
glass in this door.
I
turned on the spot and saw the only object big enough to smash through the
thick glass, a chair. Hopefully, I’m not too weak from running or the pain to
lift it, or just too weak in general. There’s only one way to find out.
Grabbing
the leather chair with both hands, without even testing it first, I heaved it
up and swung it around as fast as I can. I grunted loudly. The muscles in my
arms protested. The nerves in my shoulder cried out. More stars popped in and
out around me. I planted my heels down on the marble floor, but with every
action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction. As the chair swung to the left,
my feet went to the right.
Miraculously,
I had built up enough speed, the chair’s legs penetrated the glass. With the
glass now having a whole in, it was weak enough for the entire chair to pass
through. I let go, it flew forwards, and dropped instantly, as did I; face
first, too quick for me to react in time. I landed on my ribs. My head got
caught up in all the energy and smacked against the floor…
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hi, I hope you enjoyed reading my blog. Here, you can comment on what you liked about it or what changes you feel will best suit bettering your experience.