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I soon Realized, in my own self doom, that I’ve been scammed back into this psychopaths playground. Waking up on this rolling table once again, the cognition of what was left of my intellect issued panic into the remaining thoughts of my cerebellum. What everyone knows as breathing, I began to forget. A simple task that keeps you alive. Its a simple assignment that sustains your willingness to depart from the negativity of non-survival.

Racing through this so called “playground”, I’ve witnessed a thing or two. The not knowing what’s around each corner. A maze with no ending. But the most important thing for me to do, is that I have to remember to breath.

Breathing, its as simple as a piece of cake or any other cliches you can think of. Something I’ve been doing since birth. Inhalation was being to be a foreign concept to me. Forgetfulness streamed my every thought. With the blazing gash upon my collar, I laid there once again in disbelief that I was right back where I started from.

How did this happen? Was the guy in the yellow car part of this? I laid their spiraling into self doubt so bad, that I eventually forgot to grasp for air. It seems so hard to come by within these last few minutes that I had to treasure each moment with hopefulness. Just knowing that my last breath is the privilege held in the hands of a lunatic with some silent torturous mind was not an easy thing to think of. The persistent reminder to myself was that, due to my current wounding condition, I had to remain calm to further my existence with this world.

I remember laying there promising myself that, if I ever make it out alive, I would never take anything for granted again. I guess its some weird way that when we know we are dying everything rushes over you. Thinking about my family and friends that I would be leaving behind was a dark cloud waiting to rain over me. Knowing that no one would be able to find me darkened my thoughts to the point of caving. I couldn’t wallow though. Who was I to just sit here and let this happen to me? No, I had to keep going. I had to keep breathing.

This time there was nothing surrounding me. Not a single sharp gizmo around for me to jimmy myself out. What was I to do? With the sudden urge to cough, the gagging reflex that came after nearly killed me. The suffocated experience sent me into a more ambitious state. Still, I was alive. This had to have been some kind of miracle that I’ve lasted this long. That I was still breathing and coming up with some kind of way to escape this now obviously doomed room.

The weaker I became only made it harder to squirm my way off this once again table.

This gaping gash that roosted on my neck like an agonizing barbeque on a summer day made moving almost impossible. Breathing was becoming slim and the oxygen was escaping from the department that defined einstein. Everything was becoming a scrambled egg. My vision was beginning to go with the lack of air that normally flowed through my mind.

I could feel the dragging motion of becoming heavy. Was I dying? For real this time? The gagging coughs gurgled up more red vital liquid that I knew I was nearing my end. This couldn’t happen. I counted to three and wiggled the gurney one more time. Somehow in my rapid fit, the straps broke. The silent killer was not winning this time.

With the weakness that now fell completely over me, I laid for three more seconds, took two breaths, as deeply as my open throat would allow me and sat up. The world was spinning but I was making it out. I didn’t notice before, but the door to this room was open.

Cautiously, I stumbled through the frame and saw a light at the end of the hallway. Just before getting to the end and strangely feeling whole again. The further I got, the lighter I felt. A faint whisper slipped its way into my ear. A chillingly familiar sounding voice that urked me senses. Just before I crossed the threshold to what I thought would be my freedom, that phrased haunted me.

“No one will want a muted girl. I have made you soundless and intend on keeping you that way. You’re desire for help will not come. No one will hear your pleas. And now you’ve crossed the fine line of life and death. You will forever be soundless”

That phrase will stay with me til the day I die. Which so happens to have been since the beginning of this story and what you just read is my suicide note.

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