Chapter 2.

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A loud crash woke me up. I tried rolling out of my bed, but I couldn't. Everything was black. I recalled what happened last night. Nothing. Did I go drinking again? A painful bell blasted inside my head, seemingly confirming my suspicion. Damn me. I shouldn't be drinking. I was as lightweight as a baby, after all.

Another crash reverbed inside my ears, punctuating between the water trickle nearby. I initiated my after-hangover routine, starting from wiggling my toes and fingers. They worked. Next, arms and legs. My limbs were on fire when I tried to lift them, they were so heavy.

A vague memory of a dream surfaced in my mind. The dream I'd had for a long time. However, this time it felt more vivid. I somehow remembered the feel of blood flowing from my neck, the sensation of a blade deep inside my neck. I knew the feeling of floating freely, weightless. I remembered the peace.

I clumsily sat upright and found a camera staring at me. Water trickled from my hair and face, collecting on the puddle... that was my open belly.

The dream. It was not a dream.

... dear lord.

The crashing noise continued, this time more distant. I hauled myself out of the bathtub onto the floor, splattering water all around me. My limbs were all weak, but I managed to drag myself to the towel rack and dry myself, taking great care with my insides. I grabbed the camera and turned off the water tap before crawling out to see what the crashing noise was about. Grabbing the door frame, I pushed myself up onto my feet.

The room lights turned on as I stumble inside, illuminating the messy floor with a fluorescent hue. The blue curtains covered the orange evening sky. I peeked outside and found a hazmat-clad environment crew struggling to pull a jammed trash bin in their recycler. The machine's clawed filter arms ground against the metal bin, making another crashing noise. I wonder how it felt like to be inside that machine. Feet first, slowly picked apart by the arms and then crushed by the hooks of the rotating grinder. The crackle of splintered bones reverbing through me as blood and flesh were squished and mangled.

What was I thinking? Sheesh, these intrusive thoughts.

One of the crew looked up and his sight met mine. His apologetic expression turned into a curious one after noticing my naked body, so I quickly backed off. Thank lord he didn't see more of me. I couldn't imagine what would happen if someone knows about this. My... condition.

I lay on my bed and stared at the gap on my stomach. A trail of intestines ran down toward the bathroom. My hands pulled and stuffed it in idly as I contemplate about my current fate. My body took on the color not unlike the classic incarnations of vampires or zombies, but I was not sure which. Thankfully, it didn't came with the usual discoloration like so often portrayed in films. My skin was plain white. Still, no one should know about this.

Suddenly, I felt the buzz of my phone below me. I picked it up and was immediately blasted with a familiar voice, if not friendly. "Where the hell have you been?! You didn't pick up my calls, didn't see my messages, didn't even show up at the science fair! Have you lost your mind?"

The science fair? What was she talking about? It was still weeks before it starts. Or maybe not...? I whispered a quiet maybe just to calm her down, but it seemed like no sounds were coming out of me. I tried to cough out the phlegm in my throat. No result. Remembering my condition, I grabbed my throat and found it unharmed, so I slipped my hand into myself and plunged it into the chest cavity. My hand immediately punched my lungs, puking some water into my mouth in the process. The cavity was wide open, of course I couldn't speak. The diaphragm rolled up on itself, hidden beside the slightly wet lungs. It must be sealed before I could talk. So I went up and grabbed a roll of cellotape from the pile of stationery on my desk. I hadn't used it much; the roll looked like it could cover my small body twice and still have some to spare. Sticking one end of the tape on the tip of the sternum, I streched the tape onto my spine and plastered a good amount of tape on the back wall of my insides, then tore the excess. Then I taped another end just beside the previous one, slowly covering the gap of my chest.

As I did the process, the voice on my phone grew less irritated and more concerned. I ignored it, focusing on the problems at hand. Soon I took my first breath, filled my lungs with fresh air, then promptly puked more water. The fresh oxygen flowing inside me sharpened my dull senses.

Unfortunately, pain is also a sense. I fell on the ground, a thousand pinpricks and needles pulsing, no, growing inside me. There were worse things to think about, mainly the voice on the phone. Told me she's coming to my house. Next thing she see would be me, then she would freak out and invite the whole world to find me. So, much worse than mere pain. Okay, I didn't know which was worse, and at this point I can't think about it anyway. My agony worsened with every step I take. My head pounded like a jackhammer. There must be some painkillers on my parents' practice room. I needed to get them before anything else.

After a few precious minutes of crawling, moaning, and rummaging, I found a vial of morphine and jabbed half a syringe of it into my arm. I let a sigh of relief before collapsing on the sterile floor, feeling the drug coursing in my veins.

Except it didn't, because apparently there was no blood to carry it. The drug spread in my arm, alright, but that was it.

And, of course, morphine works on the brain. I should put it in there for the drug to work. Morphine also has a really wonky potency. One drop too much and I could be dead. Or, maybe in my case, a sleep so deep half a bathtub's worth of water evaporated before I woke up. Just how long did I really went out?

I pulled a tiny dose into the syringe, one I could with my shaky hands. Better safe than sorry. Unsure where to inject, I poised the syringe between my eyes. The sight of the dripping needle terrified me. My hands trembled in pain. If I slipped... No, shouldn't think like that.

Cursing under my agonizing breath, I stabbed the syringe into my head. The needle cracked through my skull, but then the resistance disappeared. Depressing the plunger, I felt a small pressure somewhere inside. I kept injecting.

Suddenly, the pressure popped and an unexplainable bliss flowed through my body, replacing pain with pleasure.

I dropped the syringe to the floor, then hoisted myself to the doctor's chair and relaxed. My limbs still felt as heavy, but at least they're not painful to move anymore. I sat there and closed my eyes, enjoying the release from the torturous event. My body buzzed with pleasure and joy. My mind cleared itself from the agonizing fog. The thought of dealing with her tugged in my mind. I could do that later. Yeah, later...