Part 2: Musings of a Metropolis Victim
I sat on the edge of the cliff, ready to jump. I balled my fingers into a fist and clenched my teeth. Even if it meant a whole lot of pain, I was ready. This was my only chance. With all my might, I heaved myself forward, propelling my body to leap off the precipice and into the vast unknown below me…
Except that the edge of the cliff was the edge of a bed… Except that the deep chasm beneath me was a two-foot drop down to cold ceramic tiles… Except that, crushed in my clenched fists was the crisp white cotton of the bed-sheet. Except that, although I had pushed my body forward with every-ounce of willpower that I could muster, I hadn't done anything more than utter a muffled grunt and slide forward half an inch on the bed.
I was frozen. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get my legs to obey. The lower half of my body felt like concrete, and somehow the rest of my body had decided it would be better to behave similarly. I looked down at my right leg, mummified neatly in yards of bandages, and I could see that a tiny dot of red had appeared on the side where my ankle would be. Great. Just what I need. More blood.
I knew my leg wouldn't take any weight, even if I had managed to get off of the bed. I knew I would have instantly crumpled to the ground like a rag-doll. But at least crawling would have been an option. Even if I had to drag my body across the icy floor, there was a chance I could make it to the door. The door is locked, idiot. Yeah, I knew it was locked, but it was literally the only way in and out of this 8-by-12-foot pristine prison cell that had been my home ever since I had woken up. I didn't even know how long I had been here, because I had no idea how long I had been unconscious. The last thing I remembered before this room, was being trapped in the debris that was once Metropolis; breathing in the smell of dirt and concrete as the world around me grew darker; waiting to die.
Yes I knew the door was locked… but I had to try. Maybe by some unimaginable miracle they had left it open, just this once.
And then, what? Crawl your way to freedom? I didn't know what would come next. All I knew is I had to get out of this room.
I heard footsteps approaching from afar, growing louder with each step. My time was up. My window of opportunity had slipped away. Whatever they had injected into me was doing its job. My lower-body was completely unresponsive. I wasn't going anywhere. I slumped backwards against the pillows at the head of the bed. I didn't even bother trying to drag my dead-weight legs back up onto the mattress. They would do it for me when they came in. The little red dot of blood was now a patch the size of my palm. The only thing I had succeeded to do was make myself bleed more.
They would know what I had tried to do. And it wouldn't matter to them. There wouldn't even be any repercussions for my pathetic attempt at escape. They knew I wouldn't be getting out of here on my own.
I settled back into the crushing embrace of despair, as the door opened.