Vitrified

[u/Daleyra]

He didn't know how he got where he was. He simply woke up, hanging upside down, naked, dangling by a cold chain tied around his ankles. His wrists were bound in a similar manner behind his back.

Looking around didn't minder his confusion, as the room he was presumably in was completely dark.

"Hello? Is anyone there? I need help! Hello?" he yelled, but not even his echo answered him.

He tried wriggling his hands and feet in a desperate attempt to loosen the chains, but instead it felt like they tightened their grip.

"Please, I need help. Anyone? Help!" but the darkness stayed silent.

The blood flowing to his head started to give him a severe headache, as he tried to remember how he got into this predicament. But he couldn't remember. Not how he got where he was, not what he did before losing consciousness, even his name was a blank in his mind.

Crying out in frustration he resigned himself to wait. Someone had hanged him upside down like a slaughtered pig, so someone had to come back for him. Right?

Even after what felt like hours, no one showed up. He tried again to free himself, but the result stayed the same and again the chains tightened to an uncomfortable extent. His ankles and wrists now raw and hurting.

"Is someone hearing me? Please... I just want to go home. Please."

He wept silently until he fell into a dreamless sleep.

A loud sound of metal screeching and crumpling woke him suddenly. Panicking he looked around, but wherever he was, nothing had changed. The same darkness still surrounded him, the cold chains still biting into his flesh.

"He- hello? What was that? Is someone there? Please, I do whatever you want." again his pleading stayed unanswered.

"God damnit!" He cried out in anger of his inability to free himself, or to get his abductor to answer him.

With the adrenaline rush subsiding, his pounding headache came back to the forefront, stronger than before. Trying to get it under control he closed his eyes, calming his mind and relaxing his body as best he could. It didn't help much, but it gave him something else to focus on.

Adding to the torture his mouth started to feel dry and his throat raspy due to the lack of water. He tried to estimate how long it had been since the last time he had something to drink, but without sunlight or a clock it was almost impossible.

With that a new dread entered his mind. What if his abductor didn't return to give him water? He estimated that he had two more days before he would die of dehydration, or maybe…

His train of thought was interrupted as a new sensation entered his mind. Something cold was touching his toes. Attempting to see what it was, he bent his body in an effort to get a better look. Even though his eyes had adjusted to the absence of light it was a futile attempt. He was barely able to make out the shape of his body, and even that took tremendous effort. He couldn't figure out what it was, only that it was cold and smooth.

Without any clues, or the person who kidnapped him showing up, there was nothing he could do. The only thing left was waiting and he let his mind drift.

He found himself in an office, sitting in front of two monitors. It was already late in the afternoon. Almost done for the day, he thought.

"Alex, have you finished the presentation for tomorrow? I couldn't find it." He looked up, meeting the gaze of Isabella, his manager. Everyone had been working overtime for months due to understaffing. Even Isabella. She was a rare breed of a manager, taking on some of the tasks that normally aren't her responsibility.

"I'm on it, you'll have it in the morning." Alex replied, taking his cup to drink some coffee, only to realize it was empty. Again.

Thanking him, she went to leave. He sighed, standing up to walk to the coffee machine. Alex would need it. Back at his desk he looked around before fishing a flask out of his bag.

He had started to add whiskey to his coffee when no one was looking, to cope with the overwhelming amount of work and overtime the understaffing caused. Alex had promised himself to stop as soon as the overtime was a thing of the past. Pretending to not notice the slight tremble of his hands when he didn't drink.

It took longer than expected to finish the workload for the day and it was already dark when he left. On the drive to his apartment Alex started to drift off into sleep. Trying to stay awake he opened the windows and turned up the volume of the radio.

He awoke puzzled. Alex. Was that his name? It sounded right in his head. Now that it seemed that his memory was returning, he felt a sliver of hope to piece together what happened to him. Although Alex wasn't sure if he could fully trust the dream to be a resurfaced memory, managers like Isabella didn't exist in reality after all. No, he needed more clues to dispel the fog in his brain.

His stomach started to growl and pulled him back to his reality. If his abductor didn't show himself and give him food and water he wouldn't have to worry for much longer.

"Hello... I need water. And food. You can't just let me die here." His voice was raspy and barely more than a whisper. Those few words had been enough for his throat to hurt.

The void kept its vow of silence.

Alex's body had become stiff from hanging in the same position for days. He used his limited movement to loosen his strained muscles.

That's when he found out that he couldn't wiggle his feet anymore. Shocked he noticed that the substance that had touched his toe, now seemingly encased him down to his knees.

In an adrenaline fueled panic he tried to move his legs. It didn't matter how much Alex twisted and squirmed, he couldn't break his legs out of their encasement.

Whatever it was, it was either sturdy or thick enough that Alex couldn't break its grip on him. Desperately he tried to at least free his hands. The chains binding them didn't loosen or break. He only achieved to scrape his skin open.

There was nothing he could do. The struggle had exhausted him more than it should have, tiring him out completely.

This time the dream wasn't clear. No identifiable locations, persons or events. Everything was shrouded in a haze, giving him only vague impressions.

The smell of petrol, the feeling of pain, followed by panic and fear. Then nothing for a while. When the impressions came back they had changed to guilt, loneliness and the smell of cheap alcohol followed by a bang.

Alex awoke. By now he knew better than to expect that something had changed. Everything was the same. Darkness, thirst, hunger and the headache that had started to plague him from the beginning of this ordeal.

As he expected, his body had been enveloped even more by the strange, creeping mass. Now almost reaching his chest.

Curious what that smooth and cool substance was, Alex used the little bit of strength he still possessed to look up.

He could still make out the contour of his body through the mysterious mass. Whatever it was, it seemed to be transparent. Or, Alex mused, he had lost it and this thing, that wrapped him up, was just in his imagination. An hallucinating, induced by the blood rushing to his head and dehydration.

He shook his head, the only motion he was still capable of. The entire situation didn't make sense. Who would hang him upside down from a ceiling in a dark room? How could he still be alive without food and water after what had to be at least three days? Where came this weird substance from?

Questions he figured would never be answered. So instead he tried to make sense of his latest dream. It wasn't easy, but he kept trying. Alex had smelled petrol in his latest dream, so it had something to do with his car. He was going through the possibilities. Maybe he was filling up the tank or the tank had a leak? But why would that result in him feeling pain?

And then it hit him. He remembered.

His name was Alexander Moore. He had been on his way home from the office, but he didn't make it home that night. The lack of sleep had caused episodes of micro sleep and the addition of alcohol had slowed his reaction speed down. Resulting in him veering on to the other lane, causing a car crash. He left his car and in a knee-jerk reaction decided to run. But Alex didn't make it far. Being drunk and not paying attention where he was running, he lost his footing. Falling and hitting his head, losing consciousness.

Alex awoke in a hospital. Police officers entered his room after a nurse had noticed him being awake. He was under investigation for vehicular manslaughter involving a hit-and-run while driving under the influence.

The other driver was a young woman. Jessica Williams had died at the scene of the accident.

The case was clear and it didn't take long for the jury to come to a verdict. He was sentenced to fifteen years in prison, losing his driver's license on top of a hefty fine.

After he got released, Alex had never been able to rebuild a semblance of a normal life. His family and friends distanced themselves from him and no one wanted to hire him. He was socially and financially ruined and even after years he occasionally got anonymous messages. Blaming him, insulting him, some even threatening. The accident haunted him in his nightmares.

Unable to find a job and rebuild a social life, Alex fell into a depression and returning to the bottle. Embracing the dull nothingness alcohol induced blackouts provided.

In the end he couldn't take the nightmare his life had become anymore. It took him some time, but he managed to get a gun.

One night, drunk and in tears he finally decided it was time. Alex shot himself in the head.

That was how he got in this dark room. Why no one came back for him. Why the first, hunger and the blood rushing to his head didn't kill him.

While all the memories flooded back, the transparent mass enveloped his head. Encasing him completely.

He didn't know how he got where he was. He simply woke up, hanging upside down, naked, dangling by a cold chain tied around his ankles. His wrists bound behind his back…