Dear Maria: Chapter 2

It took her an age to build up the mental strength she needed to turn around and head towards her frost bitten living room. It was almost totally covered in hard, crystal blocks of ice now. For such a destroyed, now ugly room, the glacial effect managed to reveal some beauty. The small, sparkling specks of silver shone from there sub-zero substances. In this scene of pure madness, she felt a moment of curious tranquillity, just staring at her reflection in the mirror like ice.

But her reflection changed. Twisting and turning into something grotesque, horrible, hideous. The image she was seeing, it made her feel dizzy, light headed. She staggered slightly, trying to remain balanced on the shaking structures she knew as legs. Her vision blurred and there was a continuous ringing in both her ears, inside her head, drilling into her brain. She fell to her knees. The ringing changing into that horrid cry she had heard over the phone. Her vision becoming dark, and body shaking like a leaf hanging on to a branch for its life. There was a painful lurching in her stomach. Immediately, she wrapped both her limp arms around her abdomen, hoping this would somehow cease the pain. She gagged, once, twice, three times before the burning acid passed from her mouth and spilled onto the floor. It was beginning to become unbearably hard to remain upright, to remain conscience, to keep her arms around her, to even keep breathing. The weight of this virus became too much, and she gave in to its sickness, collapsing to the ground.

Dear Maria,
Is that it? You’ve given in already? Oh, you wish you could quit, we won’t let you quit. Oh no, this is just the beginning of this game, Maria. There is much more pain to come than that. That was only a fraction of the suffering you have caused. Are you ready, Maria? This is when the game truly begins. A beautiful game of redemption. Can you atone for all you’ve done? I don’t know - we just want to see you crumble under the pain.

Her fingers twitched slightly, nerves reawaken, feeling returning to her numb body. Her nostrils flaring as they inhaled that god-awful stench. What the hell was that smell? Her eyelids flickered, filtering in quick images. They remained closed however as she sat up, not wanting to risk feeling woozy. She placed a cold-sweating hand on her forehead before pushing it back, running her fingers through her hair, until they got tangled and knotted in a sticky substance. ‘Vomit’ she thought, ‘Great.’
Maria opened her eyes, staring down at the spot of sick she had been laying in seconds ago. She noticed though, that it was not resting on the layer of ice it had been earlier. The room had undergone a complete metamorphosis. Thick layers of rusting iron mesh replaced the cold floor, her vomit dripping down through small holes into the black abyss below. Her peeling walls were no longer made of brick and concrete, but of what looked like skin and muscle. They pulsated, much to the speed of her own heart, letting blood run freely over its surface. The only light that entered the room now came from a small, swinging, flittering light bulb from above. No longer did her grand chandelier hang from the ceiling.
Most of the furniture seemed to have disappeared; only the torn couch, clawed drawers and television remained in the room, each in a worse condition than they were before. She picked herself up from the cold mesh and stood upon weary legs. Her head still felt light, vision still slightly blurred. Staggering sluggishly across the small shadowed space, she stumbled through the only door that seemed remain existent, the door leading to her bedroom. It had also changed drastically – blood stained bed sheets, large rusting metal walls, cracked mirror, smashed photo frames and dirt covered clothes scattered across the entire room. Her body automatically fell to the gruesome bed. The hands, rising themselves to cover the face of fragile fear on the woman. They were shaking, so was her breathing pattern. Small, raspy breaths came from her mouth as water poured from her eyes, for there was nothing else she could do. Looking through water glazed eyes; she stared at the fan spinning on the ceiling, the only normality left in the room. Each wooden blade chased another in the infinite race, round and round, round and round. Gazing upon the fan for so long put Maria into an almost trance like state; hazy vision, relaxed muscles. Without even aware of it, she drifted into an open-eyed slumber.