Dressed to Kill

“Wake up!”

A voice in my head screamed. I felt a piercing headache drill into my brain. I grasped at my temple as I sat up on the single bed, I found myself in. I looked around the room and I could barely make out the blandest bedroom I had ever seen in my life. Whoever lived here had an obsession with dark grey. The curtains were in a smokey grey shade and were closed, keeping the room dark and soulless. The duvet and pillow under me were both also in some kind of shade of grey. There was a weird smell that lingered around the room. It was like bleach mixed with nutmeg or something to that effect. My neck felt slightly strained like there was an infant trying to wrap their hands around my neck. I looked down and I was dressed in a jet-black suit, white shirt, black necktie, and black shiny formal shoes. Funny enough I didn’t really process the fact that I never owned a suit a day in my life. I was preoccupied with the weird dull room and my damn head. Why was my head so damn painful?! I got out of the bed leaving an imprint of my body on the duvet cover. I walked towards the curtains and stood in place for a few seconds. My head was still pounding. It felt like someone had put my brain in a blender. I stumbled through the room and searched for a door. I am pretty sure I looked for about ten minutes before realizing that the door was missing.

Wait what? No door. How did this room have no door? How did I get here? Come to think of it I couldn’t for the life of me remember what I had done the previous night. That’s when I realized I was wearing someone else’s clothes. One more thing was very apparent – I felt taller and a bit bigger than I was yesterday. Now the severity of the situation started to dawn on me. What the hell was going on?!

The window. Of course, the window. I definitely came through the window. I walked as quick as I could to the curtains without aggravating my brain. I ripped open the curtains to reveal the…

Nothing. Just more of the beige colored walls. My stomach filled with butterflies and my heart dropped. I looked up to see if there was an opening on the ceiling. There was nothing. Come to think of it why was the room visible at all? There wasn’t a source of light. I pushed the bed to the right to see if there was a trap door or something underneath. Nothing! Still nothing. The more I investigated the more confused I became. Nothing made sense. Was this a dream of some sort? Maybe. It didn’t feel like a dream. It all felt so real. I started to panic. I made my way to nearest wall and started banging as loud as I could.

“Hey!” I screamed repeatedly with utter desperation in my voice.

After about 30 minutes of screaming, I gave up. No one could hear me or more disturbingly whoever put me here could hear me loud and clearly. I felt like I was in “Saw” or something. I looked back at the bed and…… My head started pounding again. I grasped my head with both my hands and got on my knees. The pain intensified. I screamed in agony for what felt like a lifetime until the pain slowly subsided. Finally, I could really think. I looked up on the bed and out of no where a sniper rifle was sitting on the bed aimed at me. I stood up slowly and walked backwards until my back met the wall behind me.

“Where was I last night?” I asked myself in my head.

I retraced my steps.

“I was in biology class… “

No wait that didn’t sound right.

“I was at my girlfriends place, and we were making…. “

No that didn’t sound right either.

Wait, was I still in high school? I didn’t feel like a high schooler.

“Where are my parents?”

I thought hard about my parents.

“My father is a gentle giant called Simon and my mother…. My mother is…. “

I could not remember her face.

“Her name is Susan,” I remember saying to myself.

Why couldn’t I remember my mother? Then it dawned on me. She had died. I remembered that very clearly, she had died when I was in the 11^th grade from cancer. We had a funeral for her. Is that why I was wearing a weird suit I didn’t remember. Did I just come from my mother’s funeral? No wait, I could remember the aftermath of her death. How I had drifted away from my father and how I had powered through until I graduated. Yes! I had graduated. It was coming back to me slowly. I graduated from high school, but I never went to college. That’s all I could remember. I wasn’t in high school. How did I get here? I slowly slid down the wall and sat on the floor. I closed my eyes and tried to think about last night.

“Put the gun down!” Screamed the voice of a middle-aged man.

Flashing lights. Yes, flashing lights. I remember the flashing lights around me. It was definitely nighttime. I heard sirens ringing around me.

“Wait my mother didn’t die of cancer,” I remember thinking to myself.

For some odd reason that thought popped into my head. It was a car accident. I remembered now. She was killed by some drunk driving lunatic. The son of some politician or something. Brian Matthews was the name. That smug face flashed in my memories. He had blonde hair and brown eyes with the rosiest cheeks I had seen in my life. Overall, just the most punchable face. I spent years hating him. It ruined my life. I was in a dead-end job and living in a small apartment in the worst part of the city.

“Wait a minute,” I thought to myself.

I had a gun. A sniper rifle. I was in this room. I was waiting patiently for Mr. Matthews to walk out of a bar. Where did I get a sniper rifle? Why was I wearing a suit? Whose room was this? Anyway, I was about to pull the trigger when, suddenly the door of the room burst open, and three cops entered the room with their guns pointed at my…. At my head.

“Put down the gun!” The middle-aged Caucasian police officer in the middle screamed.

Why didn’t I put down the gun? All I remember was this bitter feeling that overpowered my thoughts. I was done. With everything. My life had no meaning, and I was about to go to jail while that human tumor would go on with his life. I was tired. I turned the rifle to the cops, and they pulled their triggers, and the bullets went straight through my head.

I’ve been in this room for a year now and I have no idea if I will ever leave. Is this the afterlife? Is this some sort of prison? I have no idea. I guess no one will ever read this letter, but if someone does come across this: Life is a meaningless cycle of pain.