Voices

• Stephanie Liddle, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2014

I don't know where I am. And I definitely don't remember checking in to a hotel. Even if I did, I wouldn't pick this hotel. The walls are lined with cushions and the door is barred with steel. There's no furniture and no windows. Everything in the room is white. I don't like the colour white. Its a boring colour. I try to distract my thoughts and move my arms, but something is binding them to my body. This frustrates me and I try to scream, but no sound is produced. Eventually I stop struggling and listen. I listen to the silence. Through it I can hear them. The voices. They were whispering before. Now they're screaming. I start to panic again. The voices scream when someone's about to die. But I'm the only one here, so who else could be about to die? And why would I die? I have no health issues. Maybe someone outside the room? But is there even anybody there? So many questions flood my mind that they blend with the screams which are gradually getting louder. My heart is pounding so fast I'm worried it might stop. This cant seriously be it, I think to myself before collapsing. I stare at the ceiling blankly and all of my crowded thoughts drain from my mind like water down a sink. In that tired moment, I'm disturbed by a deafening bang that reminds me of a bomb going off. Then it clicks. The screams stop. I lift myself up without my arms and move my stare from the ceiling to the door. The minutes that passed felt strangely short, and the door soon crashes to the ground, revealing a tall, thin figure standing where it once was. "Come." The figure beckons, and without hesitation, I follow. To my own surprise, I'm not at all worried. I just want to follow the stranger. So I do. And I don't look back.