I Want To Survive

His walls of his apartment were lined with bookshelves were he kept dozens upon dozens of books, mostly non-fiction. It was fascinating to browse through his small but well collected library. The furniture in the apartment was minimalist and there was no effort put into decorating the place. It was so clean you could see your face in the floor tiles, hypothetically. Moreover, the apartment was riddled with loads of rooms and hidden passages that were lit up the moment you stepped inside the room. It was fascinating, to say the least, and downright hilarious as he acted as the tour guide and went around his apartment pointing at several books that he enjoyed.

His office was the most fascinating place of all. It was riddled with boxed of files stacked on top of one another, and sheets of paper strewn across the floor with a small neat pathway in the middle for him to go in and out of the room. It was an absolute mess, unlike the whiteboard across the room.

There were photos on it and arrows with blue markers. Even from the distance, I could make out the scene and moved away swiftly, hoping he would notice. He was kind enough to hurry me to another room and seat me. He prepared a glass of milk, surprisingly and sat across from me. His proud stance made me smile.

"I asked the building manager. She said that you should be able to move in within a few days. The month end is near so it won't be much of a problem." I nodded at his observation as I sipped on the milk.

"I will have to go back to the old apartment tomorrow and sign some papers, and I should be set to leave," I said softly. He arched a brow in question. "It was a pre-furnished room and I don't have a lot of luggage, so I can move fast."

"But that means you will have to buy new furniture. How will you move?"

I shrugged.

"I'll do it myself. I am a minimalist, so I don't mind a lack of furniture."

"But still, call me the day you move, I will buzz you in and help you get your things arranged." I nodded dumbly, not wanting to be rude. 'It wasn't like he was going to see the inside of my apartment after today,' I thought absent-mindedly.

.

Thank god it was the end of the month and the management in my last building didn't fuss. I soon found myself shopping for a mattress. Sebastian had insisted on driving me to the mall to help buy what was needed. He made no input regarding any of the things I bought, he silently oversaw as I flitted across the rows of curtains and bed sheets to pick out ones I liked. I had decided on placing a single double mattress in the middle of the loft to make for a sitting and sleeping area and had bought an adjustable laptop table so that my back could finally rest after sleepless nights of translating documents.

He kept surprising me with little things like helping me push the cart, inspect the mattress, and buy me a smoothie from a local store.

The mattress was due to arrive later that evening and the company would deliver it to place, so I reached the premise and tried to sort out ways in which I could keep him out of my house. I made several excuses before he realized I didn't want him near my apartment. If it hurt his pride, I didn't know, but his shoulders hunched as he walked away.

.

[New places bring old memories. Like every other time I had moved, my dreams sucked me back into the very world I wished to escape.

Like every other time, I could taste my blood mixed with the vegetables I had chopped. The taste was horrid. I vomited out the food I had consumed. Days went by as she continued keeping me as her little pet who chopped her veggies. Every day, she would do the honor of slicing the meat. I never glanced at her as she watched in sick pleasure. She had opted to break me slowly, I realized later. She was conditioning me, using some twisted form of the Pavlovian method to make me think it was okay to do as she did.

'Just let me go.' I pled to no one in particular.

'If I survive, I will do anything to compensate.'

It would have been okay as long as I retained what little rationality was left of me.

Next, she brought an infant still bundled in a swaddle. I absorbed the scene in horror as she played with the fussy kid, feeding it, tending to it. At least she didn't restrain the child or abuse it.

That soon changed, as well.

"Stop it!" I screamed again. How many times had I been stuck in this very same scene with her smugly smiling and wrapping her hand around the poor child's throat? She didn't choke it.

'It.' That was what I had chosen to call it. Because I couldn't dare to think of it as a sentient being. Couldn't bear to live with having to watch Alice kill it with glee as I watched on helplessly.

I heard a little snap, and then nothing. She pretended to play with the child for a little longer. But like every other time, she grew bored soon enough.

My days of chopping vegetables were gone.

"You are the executive chef of Food for Cannibals, today. Don't disappoint me." Her cooing and petty childish antiques infuriated me. I refused.

"Fuck you and your sick game. Why don't you just kill yourself, you ugly fuck?" I shrieked. The knife in my right hand was raised on top of my head, I wished to attack her and end this nightmare.

But she was more powerful.

A swift kick to the stomach and an hour of gut-wrenching punches left me pliable and putty in her hands.

I sliced into flesh, that day. I don't know how I managed, but I was reduced to nothing but my instincts.

So what if I had done this? I didn't kill anyone.

I have to survive.

I have to survive.

I must survive.

There is only hope if you survive.

The chant in my head was clear. I would do just about anything to keep breathing, even if I had to gorge on the flesh of another being, even if I had to watch on as she murdered others ruthlessly.

And I did just that.

I would hold on, no matter what.]

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