“How did you get it?”
“That.” I nudge towards his dislocated shoulder and his missing facial features.
His gaze was empty and swollen, a muscular yet broken arm swung around an uzi, “They didn’t tell me to stop.”
The soulless eyes linger, as if filled with sudden longing, but his body does not comply and he disappears from his position.
I am left alone in the white room without a familiar face with me. My sight ponders over the minor details in an otherwise normal crowd. It thrums with a single heartbeat, here.
Without aim, I allow my legs to carry me and I pause in front of a young lady. Perhaps only graduated college, perhaps older. In her arms lay a pair of broken hearts, cradled like a newborn.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Nobody told me that I should stop loving.” she says with tear-stained cheeks. Her hand unconsciously wanders to her belly, “No one told me to stop loving.”
She then gazes past me and her similarly aimless legs bring her away from me.
Soon enough, a boy of no older than ten arrives to fill in the empty position. He had a flat head and hair oddly matted with scarlet paint. His right arm hands lifelessly by his side and his leg is twisted in an awkward angle.
“Tell me what happened to you, boy.”
His cheeks tugged at the corner of his lips, revealing a cracked smile, “Papa and Mama got me a new ball,” he giggled, “It fell over a cliff and they didn’t tell me to stop.”
He presents the blue beach ball with his other arm and then he asks if I would play with him. I refuse; I needed to meet other people.
A middle-aged man paces over towards my direction. He was clean shaven, with a bright red tie around his neck, perfecting the ensemble of a classic suit and look.
“How did you get that red tie?”
His panic-stricken eyes flicked open, wildly assessing me from top to bottom, “I didn’t know how to do it, I don’t know how to stop,” he muttered, “So I didn’t stop, I didn’t stop, especially when I got that rope…”
The words began to drop into a low mutter as he paced away from me, acting as if I had never existed in the first place.
A girl crouches a few steps away, away from the crowd and alone in the corner. I walk over to her, and I see a thin lip, quite pallor. Her arm is filled with tiny holes, red holes, littered all over her skin.
“What happened to you?”
But instead she ignores me and stares at the white wall, “I didn’t know how to stop, they told me to continue and continue, and it felt so good,” her head snapped towards me and her eyes flicked open, “They felt so good…”
Her body begins to disappear into the mist, leaving nothing but only a fragment of a mirage behind.
In her place stood a wooden table filled with all sorts of ornaments. There on the wooden surface lay a gun, a pair of broken hearts, a blue beach ball, rope, and a syringe; all meticulously displayed and personalized only for me.
Desire begins to explode in my chest and I can feel them calling for me. Every single human being in this room begins to fade out of sight, and then it is only me and the ornaments. My feet are light as they skitter towards the table, longing for excitement with a pounding rush in my head.
But then I my feet halts, and I hesitate. The pounding in my head recedes, and so does the ecstasy that flowed through my blood. For a moment, everything stilled. Slowly, as my body begins to tremble and shake with fear, I turn towards you and I cry out, “Tell me to stop. Tell me to stop, or so help me God, I’ll turn into them.”
Please don’t let it happen to me.