The Room by Jake Forster


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SUMMARY: My first published story. Hope you like it!

I slowly opened my eyes. The darkness faded away and I squinted at the light. I had awoken in a small bathroom. There was a dirty blue tiled floor and even dirtier white walls. But the walls weren't just dirty. They were stained with blood. Fresh blood that was still dripping. I turned away and nearly jumped out of my skin.
I'm afraid to admit I screamed quite girlishly. Lying on the floor next to me was a body. It was a man in a tweed suit. He looked about fifty. what had caused me to scream was the fact that several chunks of his head were missing, like they'd been cut off. They were scattered around the room. Why was I here? Who was that man? All these questions were going around in my head, but I couldn't answer them. I couldn't even remember who I was. I got up and walked over to the mirror to see what I looked like.
I was a black-haired man in my early forties. I was very pale and scrawny. I had on a white t-shirt, a black leather jacket and dark blue jeans. My clothes were coated in thick blood. I needed to get out of here. There was a door, but it was locked from the outside. I tried charging into the door, but only ended up hurting my shoulder.
So I started looking for something to help me get me out, or even explain what was going on. There was a large storage box beneath the sink full of very peculiar items. I took out a long piece of string and a pen knife. I tied the pen knife to one end of the string, and tied the other end to my finger. Then I slid the knife through the side of the door and pressed my finger against the door. I swung my finger around until the knife touched the lock. With much difficulty, I managed to move the lock just enough for me to bash through the door. I was in a dirty little house. I threw the string on the floor and put the knife in my pocket. Freedom felt good for a few seconds. I then felt a sharp pain in my back, as too late I realised I was receiving a shock from a taser.

***

I once again awoke to a glaring light. I recognised the poorly painted logo on the wall. I was in a police station. I was lying down on a white makeshift bed in a cell. "Sir, he's waking up." said a seemingly distant voice. A very mean-looking police officer entered the room. "Thomas Snow, we meet at last. You know, without you, I'd be out of a job. I've been tracking you for donkey's years."
I didn't understand. "What? Am I called Thomas Snow? I... I woke up in a bathroom. It was horrible. There was a mutilated body. I managed to get out, but I was attacked by some nut with a taser." "Thomas," sighed the police officer. "You were the only nut in that house."
What did he mean? "Officer, what are you talking about?" The policeman sighed again. "God, he must've hit you hard. I'll explain. Your name is Thomas Snow. You are Los Angeles' most infamous serial killer. Three weeks ago, you took a family hostage. Three weeks ago, you took a family hostage. Tina and Martin McDonald, and their five-year old daughter Lucy. You held them at gunpoint in their own house for a week, and then took them to your house, where you brutally murdered them. But apparently, Martin put up a fight.
You won, but you were knocked unconscious. You awoke with no memory of who you were or what you'd done. We arrived at the house because of earlier noise complaints. Unfortunately, I didn't get the honour of driving a taser into your back. Thomas, you're a psychopath. We'll never get into your sad little mind. We'll never know why butcher people for fun. But I'll be content in the knowledge that you'll spend the rest of your miserable life in jail."
Oh yeah. I remembered it all now. All the happy memories of slaughtering and killing. Call me nostalgic, but it made me laugh just thinking about them.