In the worst-case scenario, I am waking up tomorrow. Promise me that.

Nothing serious happened. But I was scared waking up in a room that was not my own. A fly had whizzed around the room and left through the crack in the window, passed the guardian spider. What a useless creature. This did not fill me with the warmth and comfort, and security that hospitals are supposed to provide. It was my fault for venturing out of the past home. I went out for an interview and planned to stay the night to work on the video I was supposed to be working on. All the motivation to go salvage mode has faded. My fingers will not move even though my will tells them to. I cannot even pour myself a glass of water to calm my parched throat. From out in the distance, the noises of nurses and doctors and patients have become a drawing notion. Lulling me into the place that this is there and the place that I am in is here.

The last thing I remember is the thoughts about Beka. I remember not understanding, was it? I think I say that phrase too much. I was going over the day. I remember it ran a circuit. It helps me to calm down. Others use it to escape their thoughts; I use it to escape my physical body. That circuit pushes muscles to the limit, exhausting everything inside me that I am numb and still moving. The plane ride home is always the best part. That was the plan. I remember that. But I never completed the circuit—more important things to attend to now. I move my head side to side before trying to sit up. My muscle aching is expected, but the lights are piercing through my skull. Should I call out to someone? Who would people typically call out to? Depending on the age, if they were young, they would call to dad or more mom. If you are older, probably no one. And what if you are in-between. Well, we want nothing to do with anybody. I should fit the standard, sulk in my bed and stop complaining about having no one to call. That is insane. And yes. I see it. Beka is sitting right next to the jug of water. Staring at me. I’m ignoring that.

Having no one to call out to. Taking away the fact that my age has anything to do with it, don’t you think it would be wise to discuss my work ethic. I broke. I break my body every time that life becomes too much, and I just need time to think about what I just experienced or what I was a part of. I learned this from a parent once upon a time. Do I have time to go back to childhood and explore how my parenting is affecting me now? The things they said to me as a kid… I didn’t dream, did i. So I didn’t die. Or I did die and was resuscitated. I cant. I mean. I’m not sure which one is which way. But I don’t remember anything. It does feel like this is the next moment. I fall and wake up in the room. I could feel emotional pain and a mental one constructing away and reminding me of all the experiences I went through between that time. I’m sure my subconscious is not having a great time because I don’t remember anything. What is the plan to address the situation?

When I turn to address her, the first thing I will look at is to notice if she is see-through. But, work-life balance. I think I will make nice to a serial killer who might have tried to kill me. I don’t know who else is close enough to me to try to kill me than an actual killer. Is that enough social interaction and balance? I think I am too rough on that part of me. Still, the moment I recognised her, I have turned my brain to a future where this situation is beneficial to me somehow. Three. Two. One.

“Can I have some water, please?”

“You're not going to accuse me of trying to kill you again, are you?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“This isn’t the first time you have been awake, and this isn’t the first time you have tried to ignore me. What is up with that?”

I do feel it in my stomach, though. There is tension every time she speaks. Why is that? How can I only fear her when she opens her mouth? Her voice does get gruff at points, but it sounds non - intimidating. I think it is the flashes of reminders of who I am talking to. I don’t know what is causing me more mental pain, the discomfort of waking up in an unfamiliar environment or looking at someone unfamiliar with the horrors that accompany them.

“This water has been replaced multiple times. I will pour you a cup now, my sleeves are up, and both my hands are visible. You can look at my mouth as well. I don’t know where you got the idea that I could sprinkle poison into the water from my mouth without poisoning myself. Still, you can’t blame a person that is in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of their body.”

“How… thank you… How long have you been here? I thought you were arrested.”

“No.”

“I would like another. Just fill it half, though, if that's alright.”

“Yeah, uh-huh.”

“Who else is here to film me?”

“I should’ve run a game of bingo every time you woke up. I would have filled the board with the wack things that have been coming out of your mouth. Did you know I stopped killing because I watched a youtube video, and a lady told me to stop?”

“I believe I made a piece on you.”

“That one didn’t make it. I’m sorry, you were too boring, the interview accomplished nothing, the readers would have been bored out of their minds, trust me, it’s a good thing. They would have eaten you alive for allowing such an opportunity to get past you. Don’t you do this for a living?”

“I thought there was a point being passed across.”

“I don’t think anyone got it.”

“How long have you been here?”

“6 hours, I didn’t make it here on my own, I was out visiting a friend. They survived, by the way. All of them. The roommates. Yeah, it was a big sham. We fooled you. That hurt a bit, but after they woke up, who knew it, we all had a story to tell. Or at least they did until I came here and became part of us. I have 8 interviews in total. You were interviewer number 7 with the redbuds. You stayed the night. Honestly, I was so afraid. Killing a serial killer. The justice there would please the youtube lady. After number 8, I think they had their story. I don’t think you should feel bad point number two. I’m pretty sure everyone was set up to fail, and the big winners were the ones that had me in that room. There were cameras already in there. You happened to be a very cheap actor that acted very realistic. Isn’t that cool. Maybe you can see yourself on tv. I didn’t do anything tv worthy to get you on when we were together, but I had no idea this was all fake. I’ve been fooled for so long, I must have some pretty hard trauma to work through. I was pacing the hallways. When I came here, with you. You kept calling me. I had no reason to decline your call. Speak of the devil and all that. But of course, that phrase is stupid, and history is no interest in me. Still, the glimmering status of being the devil would believe me if I called you a hypocrite.”

My head was not in it to file those words correctly into their stops. I sank back into pillows but pushing myself into them hurt, so I stopped and stared at the ceiling. I would stay awake this time unless what was in my hand would put me to sleep. I brought my other hand to massage my temples. I awkwardly bit my tongue as I saw her reaching for me and stopping. Was she going to rub my temples for me? So what happened to me? I was not poisoned by a serial killer? I don’t. All I remember is, she is good now. Off shot free. Lying to press. But, she did confirm, she is a killer. Are people going to ignore that? How is it possible that nothing is happening to this person right now? She is being treated like another pedestrian. Being able to look over someone sleeping in a hospital bed. This is the second time counting; she has watched me sleep. I really didn’t reap the benefits that I put my body through. I should’ve had everything figured out, but now I am out into this situation. She is lying about not being a serial killer. That is clear, right. Saints i. I definitely have more significant problems than contemplating why I am such a machine working and ultimately trying to achieve before I die. I was putting those thoughts down. But asking myself those questions have calmed me down a bit. This part of my brain will always be here, trying to figure out the problems of the well of my mind. I am looking outside of the well, and I trust a person who shouldn’t be given a baby to hold. I am being manipulated; I must be. I do see us hanging out. Saints i. Saints? God, I must be on some train you have put me through. I am unable to act and stop this. Does she even want to be friends? God, I am so thankful no one could read my mind because those words are wretched. And I apologise to the gods and aliens of the outer world watching our earth and lives like a tv show. Why don’t you get a life and do something else with your life than watching live tv?

“Coffee?”

And now the outside world is on to me too. I have failed as a mind human and an outer flesh and blood human.

“I can’t leave this room right now. I am kind of hiding. But I am sure someone can get you coffee if you use those little nubs you have dangling off the bed. But if you know that it is not allowed in your state and you are asking me to do it because of that, I would be happy to Nice nose bleed.”

My head isn’t right. It isn’t on straight; that’s why it is leaking blood. But hypothetically. Hey, you want to get Coffee. What me, oh I could never, you must mean someone else. Oh noo. It is you, right now I want. Skip coffee. But I love coffee. I think I’ve found something I like more? Sweeter than coffee? Hits harder than coffee? Do you want to have a cup of lemonade with no sugar? I. think this is moving too fast. I have just woken up; you can’t do this to me. You might remember me from your dreams, the charming darling one. The ones with the specked cheeks and the dark brown hair. I think I’ve heard of you. Yeah? Was I the sheriff of that town or the most wanted Killer? I wouldn’t catch you if I tried. You couldn’t catch me if you tried; I already have your heart. I imagine us on top of a flying dove. Swans, fighting around us, their feathers falling down like snow. The sun is setting, isn’t it? No, I believe the sun is rising, for it took us all night to fly on the doves. You smile. I don’t. I think I am scared. I think you are too much for me, and I am useless. Find someone better; I can’t have someone like you settle for someone like me. Go and grab your full potential. No, you don’t turn your face away from me. Do you think I would fly on doves for just anybody? - I think I’m going to throw up.

And I did, heaps of blood. The sheets would be ruined. I tried to aim in the other direction from Beka. Still, some got on her as she was the one I was looking at, asking for help or sympathy with my eyes. Not receiving any, I looked down and tried to sit up as much as possible. The vomiting was made worse from my abs hurting every time I forced more blood out. I have seen this before. I have been in this situation before. I will be fine. Just a little blood went down my throat from an operation. They operated at my throat? They operated!? I was awake. That’s what Beka said. I was awake multiple times before this.

What happened? If I was poisoned, I wouldn’t need surgery, right? I realise Beka isn’t calling anybody. My heart is racing as tears run down my face. As I look at the door and no one is coming, and I am alone with Beka, I begin to feel scared again of her. I clam my eyes. And reach over to the button that is dangling from my bed. I reach it, but my hand is blocked. Someone is prying my fingers off the button one by one. I realise now that that button wouldn’t call a nurse, would it? It would administer more drugs.

I don’t want to believe it, but when I open my eyes, I see Beka standing over me, struggling with me still as I am trying to get her hand off mine. She presses a button on a remote to call the nurse. Beka goes into the bathroom right after. I am struggling for breath. The blood that I have emptied out of my stomach. I think it’s that. I looked down to find it all fused into little balls. Beka. She wasn’t smiling. When I opened my eyes, I expected a smiling face, I would have pissed as I cried then, but that is not what I say. My head hurts with all of this.

I am not normal. Is this how I am with everyone else. If she is a serial killer, will I kill her? It would be justice. I can’t be thinking about all this. I am a videographer. I create interesting homey videos, I make stuff that is fun to watch, interacting with people who haven’t anything going on in their lives, outside of entertainment. This might be the only one that matters but, I’m not arguing. Not contemplate about if I met a serial killer would I kill them. There are multiple psychopath videos out there and sociopaths. They are exciting and make the content happen, and people love to hear about them. There is a fascination. I am just not alright. Tied with built-in human brain neuron firing to get me confused. This was not going to be a good day.

“Hi doctor, I was wondering-”

“O. no no no no, it’s all fine, everything has been taken care of. Nothing else you have to do is fine. We apologise for the service. It is come and go. Day today. If I am honest. No trouble from us. Sorry again for the inconvenience. I have talked it out and written it down. Everything is written down. Okay, everything is okay. Place your things by miss you were by now, and you are free to leave. No need to come back for additional tests. Nothing like this will happen. Not because of us. We done nothing. We do alright. THANK YOU.”

That ruined everything. I’ve been engulfed in flames by my experience here. I am surprised how well I am taking this news, this experience. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED. Hello? Where is my time to process? What is even going. How do I start? I don’t get it. Okay, I said it. I don’t understand. I was in trouble. Then I was really in trouble, and then I was confused, scared, terrified. Hello? Any emotion you forgot to lash at me. Where’s Beka. I was brought here. How am I going to get help? Can I get an explanation of what happened to my body? Why can’t I remember? Why am I alive right now? I don’t get it. I am definitely losing my mind. In the next scene, it got hijacked. But what am I even talking about next scene? I had no control over the setting dialogue since I woke up. I thought I was getting a grip on what was actually happening. Did much even happen?

I am gone now, back to normal. Everything is as it should be. I don’t know if I disagree with that more. But does not understanding, should not understanding be a reason for disagreeing with such a wise statement. I don’t think I can take this thinking right now. Why am I analysing at a time like this? When did I get dressed? I really need to sleep in my own bed and shower in my own house. I got a soulmate. Stupid. Why does it feel like Beka is just meant to be around me now? Is she a hallucination? Okay, I think that is enough of the thinking.

What is that? I am not that crazy. Well, explain to me how your day went today. Thought I died. Then woke up in a hospital in another part of the world. Sitting next to me was a serial killer that is now not a serial killer but totally is a serial killer. Then I realised I had had surgery. My injuries from my body death circuit, covering everything up. And then the next thing I remember is being fully dressed, with all my belonging next to my feet, talking to a doctor that wants me out. How was your day? Sips coffee. Whatever you do, Penny. First, go home, take a shower, make some food and go to bed. Maybe Beka will be there in the morning. Oh my god, I can’t.