Five days passed by as slowly as every other day had. This was to be expected as I felt neither excitement nor fear about this upcoming date.
*Knock, knock!* I heard someone bang on my door exactly two times.
I waited lying down in my bed for what came next before approaching the door.
"}78e3t#$^%#$231#$#$@7gb=8s" A random mix of gibberish spoke from behind the door as a sliding sound was produced. This combination of sounds made me aware that my least favorite part of the day had arrived.
The pot pie drop-off.
With an unmotivated effort, I forced myself out of the comfort of my bed, stretching my limbs in all kinds of directions as I lazily got out of bed.
Dawning nothing but a pair of boxers, I walked in a hunched position over to the door, yawning and rubbing my eyes as I became more acclimated to the morning.
*Step...step...step*
It had taken me no longer than a minute to reach the door to which I opened my end of the drop-off box that was built into my door and retrieved both the pot pie as well as a stack of Rorschach drawings.
Receiving the drawings indicated that I had exactly until 11:59pm to write up a report on my observation.
Of course, with today having marked the fifth day since I pledged to step outside, I knew that reporting my observation as I normally would would end up being quite useless.
The same could be said about the pot pie. Seeing as it will be my last day here, I've decided to save myself the trouble of forcing down the abomination that is pot pie in place of tossing it in the trash.
And so, with my pot pie and Rorschach drawings in hand, I headed over to the trash can in the kitchen, stepped down on the trashcan pedal which opened the lid, and dumped both items into the trash.
I then stepped off the pedal and watched as the lid closed back on top of the trashcan.
With that out of the way, I decided to dress myself in more clothing, that way if someone were to find my body, they'd be able to take the clothes off my body and wear it as their own.
Choosing what to wear was never usually a choice that held any level of difficulty as my closet had mostly consisted of the same type of clothing. A few pairs of jackets hung alongside an array of various graphic tees and button-up shirts as well as several sweat pants and jeans, all of which were suspended in the air via clothing hangers.
Seeing as today was my last day, I decided to make a more cautious choice rather than rush to put on an outfit.
After some thinking, I retrieved one of each article of clothing from left to right, starting with a windbreaker jacket, then moving to grab a simple white button-up shirt, and then finally to a pair of loose fitted jeans-- a pair of pants which will be tightened around my waist using the black belt that hangs wrapped over the clothing hanger for this pair of jeans.
The next pieces of clothing came from a drawer at the bottom of the closet. The drawer was wide and consists of three drawers separated into columns. The drawer farthest to the left was for my shoes, the drawer in the middle was for my underwear and the drawer all the right was for my socks. Since I was already wearing a pair of boxers, I decided to skip the last drawer and only choose a pair of socks as well as a pair of shoes.
Since my sock drawer had little diversity when it came to socks, I decided to pull a random pair from the draw and slip it onto my feet. The socks chosen at random were a pair of long white socks devoid of any design or logo.
Next came choosing a pair of shoes, which when looking inside of my drawer, were quite limited.
Approximately three different pairs of shoes were kept neatly inside of the drawer. A pair of running/hiking shoes, a pair of slip-on shoes, and a pair of dress shoes. Each pair served a purpose, and because I never often frequented any place outside of my apartment even before the disease had a rapid spread, I never thought it necessary to spend much on shoe wear.
Additionally, I was not an individual who ever cared greatly for shoes or really any type of clothing for that matter. Instead, I always decided to buy what I needed and use what I have until it becomes unwearable.
As it is likely already apparent, I am not someone who is into much fashion.
Even still, whenever I would wear clothes out, I would at least put some amount of effort into matching what was available in my closet.
As I dressed myself in front of my closet, a funny feeling whorled within my stomach. It was a feeling I had never ever once experienced prior to today.
Was it out of hunger?
No, my stomach will not feel this way off of simple hunger.
Pain then?
Probably not. It feels far too funny for me to constitute it as a "stomach pain".
Constipation?
Perhaps that was the answer.
Curious as to my correctness, I waited to put my shoes.
I couldn't ruin this clean floor with the dirtiness of the shoes. Although, I haven't actually used or even worn these in three years, so maybe I could wear it. Then again, I don't think I'd want to risk that. Leaving dirt on the floor would not be pleasant for whomever inhabits this room after me.
Because of the apparent risks associated with dirtying the floor, I decided against walking around with shoes on in the house.
I placed the shoes back into the drawer before heading to the bathroom, which was located to the left of my bedroom.
Upon opening the door, a familiar smell invaded my nostrils as I was forced to heave a slight gag out of disgust.
That damn smell is still here! I thought. The smell had come to be about around the same time the disease-ridden plague occurred across the world.
I lifted the front of my shirt collar to the bridge of my nose, pinching it as I proceeded into the bathroom.
My bathroom was fitted with a sink, a toilet and a bathtub. As I had taken my first steps into the bathroom, I turned my head to the right as my eyes gazed upon the mirror above the bathroom sink.
That mirror. That damn mirror. It always has this brown stain on it that I unfortunately made worse while trying to clean it once. Before I smeared the stain and worsened the mirror overall, my aunt always said it was too small to notice, yet whenever I looked in the mirror, that stain was all my eyes could ever focus on.
As small as it may be to others, a stain will forever ruin the whole image no matter what; and so, to try and fix the issue, I bought and used this mirror cleaner from a corner store on my street.
{Bardi's Cleaning Crew!} was the title on the bottle. Below it, there was a single guarantee written in bold lettering.
{Guaranteed to clean any mess instantly!}
Below that, about two paragraphs of incredibly small and borderline unreadable texts were present.
I remembering having to buy it in secret as I believed my aunt would berate me for buying something so "useless" considering how she cared very little if at all for the mirror stain.
After buying it, I waited a few days to use it, questioning if it really was going to do what it was advertised to do. What if it just makes the stain worse? I wondered.
I hid it under our couch for about six days before deciding to finally use it.
I waited until the weekend for my aunt to leave for work so that I could be left all alone. Once I knew for certain that she had left, I grabbed the bottle and rushed to the bathroom.
Once in the bathroom, I ran up to the mirror, my eyes snapping immediately to the stain and with a little bit of hesitation and motivation I squeezed the bottle's trigger, releasing chemicals onto the mirror.
After spraying the stain, I used my shirt to wipe the chemicals around the stain.
Upon doing so, my heart immediately dropped. Rather than removing the stain off the mirror, I ended up smearing it, which ultimately left a pretty noticeable stain on the mirror.
Scared I'd be found guilty for causing such a mess, I decided to take the rest of the liquid in the bottle and pour it into the toilet.
As I poured it, I could smell a fresh scent coming from the toilet.
It smelled like cake.
I like cake.
I really like cake.
Curious as to how the smell came about, I first looked to the bottle of {Bardi's Cleaning Crew!}. As I raised the opened bottle to my nose, that fresh cake smell had overtaken my sense of smell, and while this was a horrible sense judgement looking back on the moment, I decided to open my mouth and take a few sips of the liquid inside the bottle.
*URK!* I gagged as I held back incoming vomit.
Feeling as though I hadn't much time before I puke, I forced my face into the toilet bowl. Mere seconds later, a combination of what I had just consumed along with a multitude of different foods and liquids came pouring out my mouth as I threw up everything my stomach had stored inside it.
After heaving up vomit for a little bit, I pulled my head from out of the toilet as I wiped the saliva and excess vomit off my lips.
What... is the matter... with me? Why... did I do that...? I wondered. After having gone through that ordeal, my stomach felt quite queasy.
Slowly standing to my feet, I capped the bottle and walked over to the mirror. That now smeared stain felt mocking as it stayed as an uncleanable mess on the mirror.
I heaved a heavy sigh.
I decided to leave it as is until I get better cleaning supplies. After all, what's the point of trying to fix it if all I'm doing is dirtying it more?
Ever since that retched day, I never once looked long enough into the mirror to see myself reflected behind the smeared stain.
After reminiscing on that mirror incident, my eyes shot a look to the left where the toilet was located. My body soon followed the directions my eyes were looking.
Step by step, I inched closer and closer until I had reached the toilet-- the object within my bathroom that I was certain to be causing that horrific smell.
I was now within an arms-length.
All that was left to do was reach out for the lid.
It was the only thing left to do, and yet, I had an incredibly hard time bringing myself to do it.
He's back, isn't he? I wondered while I contemplated on making another move. The smell always meant that he had arrived; likely to torment me for another day. As for who he is exactly, well, even after a year of encountering him, I had yet to fully know myself. All I did know, however, was that he was a being who, despite appearing mostly human, was definitely anything but.
Is it worth it? To have to face him one last time just so I can confirm if I do have constipation? As odd as it may sound, the decision held much weight to it.
As I held out my hand to the top of the toilet bowl lid, I contemplated my decision thoroughly, and after remembering all the terrible things I had to endure while facing him, my decision became somewhat clearer.
Why burden myself with such a fate if I'm to never visit this bathroom again?
With that thought in mind, I retracted my hand and exited the bathroom.
As I left, the funny feeling reappeared in my stomach, this time it was much more aggressive.
What is going on with my stomach? Why is it acting this way? Why is it making me feel this way?
Trying my best to ignore it, I walked back over to my closet where I had left the shoes I was planning to wear. After putting grabbing them out of the drawer, I began walking over to my front door-- sneakers still in hand.
As I neared the door, the feeling in my stomach only got worse. Additionally, there was a noticeable rise in my heart rate.
At a certain point in my journey towards the door, my body froze. I was left motionless as if all time around me had slowed to a crawl.
I couldn't move.
I want to.
Do I?
Yes, I have to.
I certainly do not!
If I don't, then I will have to live the rest of my life only eating pot pie.
I hate pot pie!
That's why I should press forward!
Oddly enough, the more I thought about the possibility of forever eating pot pie until I die, the easier it became to move.
Eventually after some time passed, my legs had broken free from the stoppage of time with my entire body also breaking free from the stoppage of time only a second later.
I was now, once again, moving closer to the door.
*Step.....step.....step.....*
I made it.
I made it all the way to the door knob.
With shaky hands and sweaty palms, I took one deep breath before reaching the door knob with my right hand, its cold texture freezing the palm of my hand.
It was the first time in three years since I have touched it.
I then went to turn it.
I went to turn it.
I went to turn it.
I went to turn it.
I went to turn it.
No matter how much I intended to turn the knob, some unwelcoming feeling had stopped me from doing so every single time. Moreover, the strange feeling in my stomach grew to make me feel quite queasy.
What's wrong? Why can't I open it? Why can't I do something as simple as opening a door?
The more I questioned myself, the shakier my hand became. My hand had gotten so shaky, that I ended up causing the door knob to rattle.
Am I... that weak-
To snap myself out of this feeling, I grabbed at my right wrist with both haste and force. Fortunately, I was able to calm my nerves enough to stop shaking. I then took long and heavy breaths in and out as I pushed myself to open the door.
With one final exhale, I successfully turned the knob and pulled the door open.
The moment I had, a sight I had not laid my eyes upon in three years invaded my vision in all directions before me. A city whose appearance looked long forgotten. Building signs that used to light up even during the day were powered off, several very likely unused cars lined the sides of the streets and not a single soul walked upon neither the city's sidewalks or roads.
Everything looks so...untouched. So, forgotten.
Fully expecting to die on the spot from the inhale of the disease filled air, I closed my eyes and outspread my arms in a sort of dramatized manner.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited, yet nothing happened.
Confused, I opened my eyes back up as I lowered my arms back to my sides.
Hmm, that's weird. I feel like I'm supposed to already be dead or at the very least dying. Perhaps it's not fast acting in the slightest? I wondered.
Seeing as I was not currently on the brink of death, I decided that it would be cool to explore a long forgotten-looking city; and so, that is what I set out to do.
Upon taking my first step outside and proceeding past the roof extension above my apartment's entrance, I was immediately blinded by the light of the sun, to which I blocked with my right arm.
My eyes, over the course of about a minute had acclimated to the brightness of the sun's light, which let me to lower my arm from my eyes.
Doing so allowed for my vision to roam free.
Most of what I had seen upon first glance was what I expected. Empty streets akin to that of a ghost town. What had caught my attention however, were a ridiculous number of security cameras placed all around along with many billboards advertising various products such as the {Pot Pie Pill} or, of course, {Bardi's Cleaning Crew!}.
Seeing as I was already very well aware of what {Bardi's Cleaning Crew!} is, I instead focused my attention to what the {Pot Pie Pill} was.
After reading the fine lettering on the billboard, I became informed on just what the supposed {Pot Pie Pill} is. According to the billboard's description, the {Pot Pie Pill} is a pill used for people who have a heavy distaste for pot pie.
Just below the description was a giant sticker with two words written in boldened red lettering.
{SOLD OUT!} the sticker read.
Dammit!
I'm certain that if someone were to be looking at my face right, they'd feel an aura of annoyance radiating from my expression.
They had a pill for it this whole time?! Not only that, but it's sold out?! Gah! Curse the awful marketing team who advertised such a gem!
Despite my obvious frustration, I decided to focus my mind on something more worth my time. What I had chosen to focus my thoughts on was something I call, "Ghost City Exploration!" (name trademarked by yours truly, Rue Joel).
I turned to the right and proceeded to the end of the apartment floor walkway before walking down the staircase and to the sidewalk.
Once on the sidewalk, I started my exploration by visiting several nearby stores.
To my dismay, most were locked shut.
Fortunately, there was an unlocked shop about two blocks away on the same side of the street as my apartment building.
The shop was small and would be quite unknown any normal day of the week when the streets are busy, but of course, since no one dares to venture outside, this shop was just as noticeable as every other shop near my apartment building; especially when taking into account that most of the other more known shops are locked up.
I pushed the door open-- the hinges of the door squeaking harshly as the door was pushed inward.
Geez, what an awful sound to hear. I thought as I stepped inside.
The shop's interior matched that of a small coffee shop only avid and niche coffee drinkers would hang out.
Three tables lined the right wall of the shop, each surrounded by two chairs equally, and to the left of the shop was a long counter where one would buy food from. A long glass case was built into the counter and as I approached it, I noticed that there were remnants of plates with mold on them, signifying that there used to be show foods kept behind the case.
Contrary to its decrepit and ghost town-looking state, the shop somehow felt warm and cozy. Almost gave off a welcome feeling, as if it were saying that I belong here.
I walked around for a bit inside as I quickly found myself enjoying this explorative journey I am on. I moved around items, played pretend barista with the cups, acted out being a customer-- all the things one could do to entertain their mind was being done at this shop.
After spending an uncertain amount of time inside the cafe, I headed out the door, still strangely unaffected by the airborne disease.
Stepping into the middle of the empty road, I looked up towards the sun, blocking its light with my right hand as my mind began to wonder.
Hm, maybe the disease only affects certain people, like people with a specific genetic background? No, too many people with too many different backgrounds were affected for it to target specific people. Suddenly, I was struck with a rather exciting theory.
Wait, what if I'm immune?! Perhaps I could visit the rest of the world for my entire life! By doing that, maybe, just maybe I'll be able to find a place where I can eat something other than pot pie-
Like some cruel joke just waiting for the right time to give its punchline, a blazing heat unlike any other began to burn at my body.
I immediately let out a yell in pain as I contorted my body in different ways.
ARGH! WHY IS IT SO HOT ALL OF A SUDDEN?!
Thinking I was set on fire, my eyes frantically darted around my body as I smacked myself with my hands to try and put out any fire that might be on me. Somehow despite feeling like I was being incinerated, I found no traces of any flames enveloping any of my clothing, and when I looked to my hands, I found that they too were flameless.
The burning sensation raged on as my body began to shrivel.
It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!
Unable to handle any more of this intolerable pain, I fell to my knees and then onto my back.
I choked as I struggled to breathe in. Additionally, my face- no, my entire body burned as if I were tied to the sun.
Part of me wanted to struggle against this pain, to continue fighting for my life, yet, another part of me was tired of fighting this unbearable pain.
Feeling as though my struggles would prove fruitless, I let the pain continue to consume me as I lied motionless on the ground.
All I could do now at the very least was to try and hold onto my consciousness so that my mind could maybe process my eventual demise in not such a frightening light.
All this...to avoid pot pie? All this to avoid being one in one billion?
I hope...that if reincarnation does exist...I get to live to be at least one...in 999 million.
I hope...that if reincarnation does exist...I get to live in a world...where I can eat something...that is appetizing on both the outside and inside.
The world around me slowly faded into a blur as my last seconds of life were ticking down.
A mixture of shapes and colors molded into a darkened amalgamation of blurred imagery. There was no understandable reality to see anymore.
Just as my I was beginning to lose consciousness, a voice spoke out to my right.
"What [] doing sleep [] [] middle of [] street?" I could hear them ask aloud. There words were broken up by my loss of hearing.
Suddenly, a new shape with new colors stepped into view. Unfortunately, due to my vision fading almost entirely, I was unable to tell just what was looming over me.
This was my final sight before my mind went blank.
— Un nouveau chapitre arrive bientôt — Écrire un avis