The Orderly

He opens his eyes—but nothing changes. First thought: somehow, he’s gone blind. A muffled groan escapes his lips. Sticky fear coils deep in his gut and slithers up the spine, catching in the throat. He lets out a soft whimper, tries to scream. Instead, the space around him fills with wet, gurgling noises. He’s lying on something hard. His pulse quickens. He blinks rapidly, but sees nothing but darkness. Breathing is getting harder. Fear gives way to panic. His muscles seize in painful spasms. He tries to bend his legs—knees hit something solid. Then comes the horrible realization: he’s in a box. He can’t lift his arms—something presses down from above. Craning upward, he slams his forehead into a board. A hot bloom of pain ignites at the base of his skull. He's burning up. Mouth dry, he tries to cry out again, but only a harsh cough scrapes its way out. Organs twist and press against the ribs; the pain scorches through him. Sweat-soaked clothes cling to his body, suffocating, heavy. Turning his head to the side, struggling to steady his breath. Oxygen sears his lungs with every gasp. Tears trickle down in thin streams, and he tries to catch them with his tongue, desperate for even a drop of moisture. His breathing grows ragged. Thoughts blur. Sparks dance before his eyes. Toes clench and unclench in wild, erratic spasms. Then the cold sets in. His heart pounds in broken, painful jolts. A bitter metallic taste spreads across his tongue. Something tears at his throat from the inside, like a razor dragged along raw flesh. He writhes, bloodied nails scratching at the bottom of the box. The air itself thickens. He trembles. Mustering what little strength remains, he tries to call out again—but the voice that comes out doesn’t sound like his. Memories stir like murky water, pooling in his mind—rushing past too fast to hold onto. His eyelids fall shut, vision no longer needed. Fear recedes. Consciousness dims. His body loosens. The heart still pounds, wild and frantic—but there's no sensation left. Limbs grow numb, unresponsive. The darkness thickens, leaving behind a sweet, metallic trace on his tongue. Through the static in his ears, he strains to hear himself breathe. Nothing. His chest doesn't rise. And the pain is gone.