The Confinement of a Single Room

The Confinement of a Single Room

As the wheels begin to turn once again, and the mechanisms in my head restart, my eyes become less foggy, and I can once again see my surroundings. I can see the dank, dark, and dreary room, but my brain is blank. What was it that happened last night…where have I ended up? At this point, I look, really look at my surroundings, and I see a shape pressed up against the far wall. As the shape registers in my mind, my hands start to pool with sweat, and I begin to feel the clamminess surround my guilty body. In screaming, and violent clips, my memory starts to unfold. I see the epic film of my night play itself out once more, no matter how hard I try to block out the recollection.
As my eyes trail back across the room, to the corpse lying on the floor, I snap to, and I can now see her, my devil in disguise. The girl that, no more than a few hours ago, was to give me my release. The girl I trusted to take me softly, and the girl who convinced me it was safe. Values, my values, were thrown out the door, and replaced with the choking after taste of my most dreaded enemy.
I can still feel the tightness of my throat, and the protest of my stomach, the first gurgle, and the fighting struggle. I can still feel the first splitting pain as the pill dissolved inside the liquid of my insides, and the first pull of affection for everything I felt. I can still feel the pulsing in my veins, and the uncontrollable urge to dance. Why was it that I let her poison me with her venomous lie? I can still recall how little my inhibitions were around, how they left me without a care, and how suddenly, viciously she grabbed my arm.
She told me of peaceful bliss, and heightened ecstasy. She told me how good I could feel, if only I would let her control me once more. I wanted to protest, my mind really wanted me to say no. But her pretty little eyes had me entranced, and I couldn’t fight the urge…I needed to dance. I can still feel the burn of that tiny little hand, the grip that it so did not demand, the tingle of her hair, as it brushed my cheek, and the feel of the butterfly, stripped naked inside me, as it flew so sadistically out through my throat.
In the bed of this cramped space, I move for the first time in hours. Slowly and scared out of my mind, I shove the empty wrapper of my first experience with a girl, off of my chest. Symbolically representing the feeling in my gut, and how used, and tossed I am feeling. I look down over my body, and the bed that encases me, and feel an incredible gasp leak from my auditory cavity. How is it that…this girl, lying a few feet away from me, could control my body, my brain, and my intelligence so effortlessly, and take me away from my only possession, myself, for the night?
So with the little strength I have left, I take my bloody hand and cover my mutilated carcass with the white and red stained sheet, wadded up at the end of the bed. All I can do now, is let the contaminated blood in my body soak into the dirty mattress, and the images in my brain burn away, into a bright white light. For now, all that I am, is trapped inside this cheap motel.