A Simple Task ft. Anxiety

The constant flickering of the fluorescent lighting overhead was slowly but surely giving me the mother of all migraines.

Distracting myself didn’t work this time. My eyes danced frantically from poster to poster. The whooshing in my ear didn’t seem to fade. Thu-thump; it’s as if the ground shook with every beat my weakened heart gave. Bile burns the back of my throat. What’s going on? I blink. The eeriness of the room is making me claustrophobic. The light now looks like shards of a kaleidoscope. Have I officially gone mad?

My lids are pressed shut. I am immune to all horrors in this world, here, in my bubble of makeshift sanity.

I am not alone. Others are surrounding the premise of the room. Buzzing. Why is there buzzing? I am fighting to keep my breath at a steady pace. This gut-wrenching feeling is growing like a tumour of despair. I feel caged in this reality, unable to process any further I press my eyes shut again.

Peals of sweat form on my temple. My muscles spasm and I seem to develop a tick in my left eye when I reopen it. Bodies. Lifeless bodies? No. I could have sworn they moved. I examine them closer.

A woman, no older than 30. Floral dress. What season is it? My body agonisingly chilled, almost frozen in its state, yet here is this woman wearing no more than a floral dress. Her hair is well kept. I reach for my own messy bun and tuck the loose strand behind my ear. Mental note to self: sort out poor dye job and maybe cut a fringe. No; no fringe. I tried that already, not my best look.  I keep scanning. She seems to wear a friendly smile, but do I trust the smile lines carved into her foundation? The ripples surrounding her eyes?

I shake my head confused. This pent up pressure in my lungs, wanting to be released is almost as if my head is a kettle on a stove and the steam is shouting, screaming even; only to be left unnoticed.

A well dressed elderly gentleman makes his way across what I can only describe as an undiscovered layer of hell. White on white, everything white. One big blur of nothing. An empty void. The level of brightness seems to change now and again. What is it I hear? Eyes feel glued to my every move. Am I fidgeting too much? Where did the gentleman go?

I allow my eyes to wander to the left. Floor to ceiling cabinets cover the west side of the room. Nothing but exposed metal surfaces and locks, so many locks. What could they be hiding?

Shrieks filled the void, and I trust that they aren’t my own. Or I’m almost completely confident they aren’t mine. My eyes come to a halt at a pram. This is it. This is what every movie has been preparing me for. I glance into the cart from a distance. To my dismay, the chilling creature looked awfully like a human baby. I could have sworn by the eardrum-bursting noise it produced that it had to be half velociraptor.

A white framed door flung open and out walked the floral dress lady. When did she go in? How did she get in? 

The elderly gentleman is called upon. That must be what’s happening as he slowly rises out of the cheaply made chair he was sat on only seconds before. I want to yell after him. Will he come back out? Sure, floral dress lady did but what are the odds that another will be that lucky?

Hell, what if I am forced to go in? No; they can’t make me. Can they? I am sure of one thing, and one thing only I will enter that room when hell freezes over!

Constant muffled ticking and whooshing in my ear seems to be the new normal. My twitch is back, and if my migraine before was unbearable, the progression it has made would have normally resulted in a raise at any standard American job.

The room fills with new life. Three people sit an arms length away from my jittery body. Can they sense I’m not okay? Is it obvious that I’d be willing to slam my forehead into an iron post if it made them go away? 

My name. I hear my name. I didn’t know the Devil knew it. Must have been him, who else would willingly live behind that immaculate white door? My jaw clenched, my body rigid. I find a singular thought left and follow it like a night light, pleading to escape this churning feeling of anxiety. Could the Devil even say my Christian name? There has to be a rule for that. 

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Sweat beads roll over the palm of my hands. My legs forgetting their sole purpose, they feel like grandma’s thanksgiving Jell-o. Slowly but steadily I am on my way toward the gateway of unknown. 

Blue? Why is there a pop of blue in the never-ending sea of stark white? I feel an insufferable pressure on my left shoulder. This is it, this is how I go. Blue stubs will be the end of me. I feel an unwavering force pulling me closer to the centre of a bare, narrow passageway. Wait, what? Why are there hallways in eternal damnation?

I bit my quivering lip. No amount of kickboxing lessons would have prepared me for a visit to Satan himself. I inhaled sharply and followed the blue figure in desperation to just get it over with. I was at Dooms door with no plan out.

Here goes nothing.

The torture chamber had one key component, of which it was built around. A pleather chair. Poster people of happiness coated every last inch of the surrounding walls. Horrifying. Counters covered in every trypanophobics worst nightmares. Panic-ridden, I sat down.

The blue stumps approached rapidly and I was prepared to bellow in what one could consider a soul-draining scream. 

Ramming my eyes shut, I was ready to take whatever came my way. 

My name, I heard my name again. Multiple times, the sound sounds so raw in the quiet that surrounds me. Again, the pressure is felt on my worn-out body. This time it doesn’t feel as rough. They call me once again. I am still intact. I am okay? 

I find myself out of this prison, heading towards the door I never thought I would get out of. I am almost on the street when someone calls after me.

“Thank you for choosing Oceanview Dental, can I book you in for a follow-up?”

Looking back around the waiting room, I swiftly say no and head towards my car.