The Backrooms
I’m in the room again. It’s dark, the bed is the only thing in the room. The sheets are like paper, and the only light is from a dim red light from the hallway. The only door I have leads out to the hallway. There is a small window on the door, it’s as big as my face. It has those little metal bars that only my fingers can fit through. The deep and lingering smell of blood and rust is in the room, like always. But something feels different tonight; something is new. I check the room, but it’s no use because the room is small and is mostly taken over by the twin bed. The door is calling to me; it’s set ajar. Unlocked. That’s weird. Every night I am here, the door is locked. But tonight, the door is wanting me to leave the room. Like I’m ready. I feel the urge to go into the hallway as if something is waiting for me, something I need to see. This urgency burns my skin; I tingle everywhere. I need to get out of this room.
As I walk through the hallway, the tiles are hot under my feet, as if there is a fire licking the floor underneath me. Suddenly, the red light starts to flicker and shuts off. I’m in complete darkness. Minutes pass by as I continue to walk down this endless hallway. Then, the red light turns back on.
As I walk, I notice someone staring at me. No, not someone: something. “Shit”, I mutter under my breath as it runs towards me. I’m frozen there. Frozen in fear. The thing has long, greasy, black hair that covers most of its face, but what I can see of its face is that it’s pale white with black veins pulsing throughout. It’s wearing a hospital gown that has blood on its stomach and their hands. As it gets closer to me, I force myself to run away. But as I run, the hallway starts to move towards me; I’m getting closer and closer to the thing. I’m terrified and don’t know what to do. I try the other doors around me to get away, but it’s no use, they’re all locked.
There it was – only a few feet away from me. It gets closer. And closer. It jumps on me and I feel it, its razor sharp teeth sinking into my shoulder.
Then I woke up.
I’m in my bedroom, soaked in a cold sweat. The red letters on my alarm clock say that it’s 3:30 in the morning. I have to go and get ready for work. As I walk to the bathroom, I feel a sharp pain in my left shoulder.
There was the bite mark. Blood is trickling down my arm. The lights flicker, and that’s when I see the thing behind me in the mirror.
I turn around. Nothing. My bathroom lights start to flicker again. With a panic, I rushed out of the bathroom and somehow… I am back in the hallway. But this time, instead of being in the clothes I slept in, I’m in a hospital gown and the hallway light isn’t red anymore. As I stare at the fluorescent lights. I hear two women.
“There she is!” One says.
“Emily, we have been wondering where you went! Your surgery was scheduled to be at 1:45, it's 3:30 now! Come on now, dear, let’s get you to Dr. Arnold. Then your surgery can begin.”
What surgery? I thought. They had my name right, but this is just a made up place in my nightmares. What are they talking about? One of the women signals two guards over, and they drag me to “Dr. Arnold’s” operating room. The two security men are large, maybe six feet tall, and they look like they were people that would crush me like a pea. As they drag me, I’m kicking and screaming for help.
“Please! Please help me!”
“Shut up!” One of the guards yelled.
It felt like I'd been dragged for miles once we finally got to the operating room. My throat sore from screaming, my feet and legs raw from where I was dragged. There is a short, old looking man in a teal green hospital mask and robe. He has white hair that’s thinning on the top of his head. I’m assuming he’s “Dr. Arnold.” As we enter the room, he is talking to the two women from before.
“Hello, Dr. Arnold. We finally found the girl,” said one of the guards.
The man- Dr. Arnold says, “Ahh, Emily, there you are. I was worried that you had escaped the facili-erm, building. You’re very sick, my dear, and you need this surgery. Now come. Let’s get you ready and settled in.”
“I don’t need surgery!” I cried.
“Shh. You’re very sick, Emily, we need to find the source of your infection. Now come here and we’ll give you some anesthesia.”
“I told you, I don’t need surgery!” I plead.
I kept refusing, he signals the guards who are holding me, and they carried me over to the metal operating table. As I kick and scream, they strap me in with brown leather belts. A nurse stabs me with a needle full of some blue liquid, and I black out.
Where am I? I thought, as I started to wake up. I feel a bit groggy from whatever that nurse jabbed into me. What happened? Why am I still in this nightmare? So many thoughts and questions run through my mind. I seem to be in the room that I’m always in once I’ve entered my nightmares. Instead of smelling the usual blood and rust, it smells like bleach. I hear one of the nurses’ muffled voices. I can’t make out everything, but what I do hear is, “Experiment gone wrong.” As I try to scream for help, I notice that I can’t really speak, my voice is all raspy. I try to move, but I’m leather-bound to the bed. I’m horrified as I see that my skin is now pale white, and I have black veins pulsing throughout my whole body. From this shock and realization, I black out again from horror.
When I wake up again, all I can see is red, and I feel hot and simmering rage. I’m hungry. I need to eat. I break out of the belts in one swift motion, and I bust through the door. The nurses look terrified when they see me burst out of the room. As they see me with drool dripping out of my mouth, they start to run away. But I am faster. I lunge at them. My razor sharp teeth bite through their uniforms. Blood splatters everywhere and the light becomes red. I am my nightmare now. And I am loving every minute of it. I feel alive.
I save Dr. Arnold for last. It was not hard to find him; I can smell his fear. He’s in the operating room, hiding under the table. The old man is quivering with fear. I grunt as I make my way to him. He hears me as I come closer. And closer.
“Get away from me!” He cried.
I crack my head to the side. Looking at him with my bloodshot eyes. Blood is covering my mouth, teeth, hands, and hospital gown; he knows what’s going to happen. I can see it in his eyes and can smell it from his fear.
“You don’t deserve to live after what you did to me!” I growl.
“Please, don’t! Please!” He cried.
“It’s too late to plead with me now.”
I walk closer. And closer, until he had no more room left to crawl. His blood smells sweeter the closer I get to him.
“Help me!” He cries.
“There’s no one left here to save you.” I chuckle.
Those were his last words, his blood tasted the sweetest of them all. Vengeance is sweet. Now, I need to find my next victim, so they can become just. Like. Me.