The Freedom in a Syringe

Hello, my name is Tom Bateman, I am thirty-four years old, and I am stuck in a room somewhere. I have been here for a few hours. I woke up in here with no memory of how I got here. I searched the room a while and I found this tape recorder. I don't know why I'm here, or who put me here. I'll try and keep this as an audio journal, so if anyone finds it, they will know what happened to me.
A few more hours have passed and I have searched the room more. Well, actually there are two rooms, a bedroom and a bathroom. I've noticed everything here is newly bought. There is a TV across from the bed and it works. Unfortunately, it only has one channel, and it is just doing re-runs of some old show that I don't know the name of. The TV is behind some type of glass, it seems pretty strong. There is a window, but behind it is a large light. The window is engulfed in light actually, like the sun is right outside. I think the glass in the windows is the same as the glass blocking the TV. There is also a fridge in the room with a large amount of food in it, all of it seems to be unadulterated and tasty. I found one odd thing in the fridge though, there was a small box in the very back. I pulled it out and opened it there were three syringes. Each had a bit of tape on them and something written on them. The first syringe said "POSTPONE," the second said "RELIEF," and the third said "FREEDOM." I am still thinking about what these words could mean. What could be in these things. Because of all liquid inside I decided to squirt some of the FREEDOM syringe on a table that is in the room. It felt like water, but smelled really strange. It smelled slightly like ammonia, and oranges. Well it's been a long "day" so I'm gonna hit the sack. I will investigate more when I wake up. Good night.
I awoke about an hour ago and ate some breakfast. I noticed that some of the food in the fridge had been replaced. This is bothering me because there is no door in here. I am trying to figure out why I am here. I think I might have some time on my hands, so I will think about it. I have looked around and it seems like there is nothing in this room that could be lethal. All the glass in the room is reinforced and I have no chance of breaking it. The bathroom is just a sink and a toilet. In the bedroom there is only a desk and a table. The only lethal thing in the room is the syringes. I think this is on purpose, you know. I think whoever put me in this room wanted to make sure I could not kill myself. Instead they want me to take what's in the syringes. Well fuck that, if someone thinks they can make me inject something into my body, and I have no idea what it is, they're wrong. Fuck all of this, fuck this room, fuck the TV, fuck the bed, fuck it all.
It has been a few days, or at least I think it has. I have not done much, I think I have a routine down. I wake up. I eat. I watch TV. I eat. I watch TV. I eat. I watch TV. I masturbate. I go to sleep. To be fair I am comfortable. This is how I lived my life anyway. Sleeping, eating, watching TV, and masturbating, nothing new. I have been thinking, will anybody miss me. Is anyone looking for me? Has the world even noticed I'm gone? I can watch this fucking show, but I am so lonely. Even though my life outside of here wasn't much different, I wasn't as lonely, because I could leave whenever I wanted. I knew there were others out there. Here I am truly alone. The idea of death is slowly coming into my mind, but I know I should not kill myself. It will only give whoever put me here satisfaction, and that won't happen.
It has been another couple days and I have gotten too curious. I must take one of the syringes. My mind is starting to break from this room. I am finding it hard to sleep, because I am not tired. The TV show is getting boring. I cannot even taste the food anymore. Every time I wake up the fridge has been restocked. The one part of my "day" that somewhat keeps me sane has gone. I cannot masturbate. I am starting to forget what human beings actually look like. The TV show I watch involves fucking cartoon animals, not a single human. I am becoming so bored. I think I will take the first syringe, POSTPONE. If I don't survive this injection, good bye.
Well, I took POSTPONE, and Jesus. I think it must have been a hallucinogen or something, because I experienced some weird shit. I took it and passed out on my bed, I started to think it was poison, until I got a huge jolt. The room started to warp and change color. Then slowly the rooms color started to drain and seep onto the floor, until I was standing in a pool of color. The walls became paper. I was able to rip through one of them and I entered a room exactly like mine. I ripped through another wall and entered a room exactly like mine again. I continued this for a long time then I passed out from exhaustion. I woke up in my bed with a pounding headache, but at least I was not bored anymore. I drank some water and the headache went away. God damn. I will say this, that trip has made me scared. It makes me feel like there is no way out, just room, after room, after room. I feel like I will be here forever.
Hello, I am whispering right now because, sitting in my chair right now is my mother, who has been dead for seven years. She is sitting there, she's not moving, not breathing, just sitting there staring at me. She is deadly pale and her eyes are black. Her once beautiful blonde hair is now old and white. This can't be real, can it. I missed my mother so much when she died. Why is she here? Why won't she move? WHY ARE YOU HERE MOMMY? WHY ARE YOU HERE? She is not even flinching she is still locked on me. It has been several minutes and she has not blinked I don't know what to do. Shit, she's gone. She left. Why was she here. Is this a dream. And I am still on that drug I put up my arm. What the fuck is going on.
I woke up about half an hour ago. I had a dream. I was sitting in my bed in my parents old house. My father was sitting next to my bed. I had just woken up. I told him I had a bad dream and he just nodded understandingly. Something was wrong. I asked him what time it was and he said it didn't matter. And I asked why dad. He said because what is time when there is nothing to do. After that he started to fade and my room started to contort into the room I am in now. I started to scream. I screamed with incredible sound. I woke up, here, still, not home, not anywhere. I just want to leave. I swear to god the TV is talking to me. Its been calling my name in the middle of the night. I don't like it here anymore. I am so afraid, and I don't even know what to be afraid of. I have been here too long, fuck, I don't even know how long I have been here. Will this ever end.
When I was fifteen years old, I broke my father's watch and then blamed it on my brother. When I was seventeen I cheated in my exam. When I was twenty-two I saw a woman being raped in an ally and I did nothing. When I was twenty-seven I cheated on my girlfriend with her best friend. When I was twenty-nine I watched a porno on my computer where a woman is obviously raped, and liked it. When I was thirty-two I helped my friend bury a prostitute he accidentally killed. Six months ago, I watched my friend who had just stolen a hundred dollars from me, overdose on drugs, after I had snuck into his apartment to get my money back. Am I being punished for one of these things? Am I being punished for all these things? The truth is everybody has done some bad shit. I refuse to believe I am here because I did all of these things. Was it my friend six months ago. I saw him "yesterday." He was sitting on my table, pale, with a little bit of vomit running down the side of his mouth. He had big black eyes and he stared at me with them. Just stared nothing else. The TV has been yelling my name louder. At all hours. While I'm sleeping, while I'm eating, never when I'm looking at it. Can I leave now?
I am not sure if I should skip RELIEF and go straight for FREEDOM. I have been here so long. But I still have hope. Maybe if I take all the syringes I will be let out. If it were that simple. If all I had to do was take the three syringes and I would be let out. That would be great. I have spent at least a month here and I could of let in hours. Yeah, I bet I had to take all the syringes. Silly me. That's so me. Yeah, I'll be let out and I can go home. I am so close. Just take the syringes. Well, I guess I will take RELIEF. Well here goes nothing.
That was not what I expected. I think there was heroin or something like that in there. I felt warm, like I were lying on a cloud. I lifted out of this room and lifted into another world. It was amazing. It lasted a few hours and then I woke up on my bed. I am now feeling kinda shitty. I can't eat. I think it made me a little sick. I will be alright, but god this sucks. I can hear people whispering in the wall. Are there others here with me. Hundreds of rooms just like this one, with other people in them with the same new TV with one channel, and the same new bed. Damn.
I have made up my mind, I am going to take FREEDOM. I don't know where it will lead me. Maybe when I take it I will wake up home. I will wake up in my bed a new man. I think I have atoned for my sins at this point. I know what I have done. Now I can leave. Maybe FREEDOM is death. But at this point, anything is better than this room. Maybe FREEDOM is another hallucination, and I will wake up right back in this room, and I will stay here for eternity. Wouldn't that be ironic. If freedom was a hallucination. That would be a pretty good metaphor. I might stay in this room for artistic license. Whatever the outcome, I want you to know that...that I don't want to die here, in this room. The contents of this syringe are my last hope. My name is Tomas William Bateman, I am thirty-four years old, and goodbye.
I can feel it coursing through my veins.
I don't feel warm this time.
I feel cold.
I feel very cold.
I can see home.
I am almost home.
Category:Items/Objects