Hospital Monologue

I wake up with a start. This is weird, no annoying alarm clock? "What is it mom?" I moan as I roll to go back to sleep.

But something is wrong. This is not my blanket. With a jolt of surprise, I open my eyes and take in my surroundings. The walls are bleached white instead of gray and covered with medical charts rather than my band posters. My fuzzy bedroom carpet has been replaced with a checkered tile floor. Why am I in the hospital? I think as my head throbs. I hope I'm not in trouble, but a feeling in my gut tells me otherwise.

I groan as I sit up, not wanting to move but too curious to stay down. I realize that I'm dressed in a scummy white medical gown and a clean pair of khakis. I check to see if my normal clothes are

The light switch is flipped on, but the lights must be broken because the only light glimmered in from a nearby window. Speaking of the window, it's cracked. The wooden chairs surrounding my bed are also broken, splinters scattered across the room as if there had been some struggle. The tile is stained with dried

Staring straight at me is a man, but he looks sick. Horribly sick. His skin is olive green and rotting off his frame. Flies swarm around his face. Bloodshot deathly red eyes bore into me. Looks like the thing had been messing around with hardcore drugs. His hair is cool, though. It was wild but in a stylish way, a sweet cut really. I’ll have to try it sometime after I heroically escape this awful place. I gag at the smell of rotten flesh. There are various festering gashes on his body. It moans. Well, it's kind of a screaming sound, but it could be classified as a moan. Perhaps the sound is best described as a scream-moan. The creature lurches towards me.

Relying on my animal instincts that had clearly gotten me so far, I pick up a leg of one the smashed chairs and break it across the creature's rib cage. The thing stumbles backward, but it does not seem to feel pain. The man, creature, or whatever it is regains its posture and continues the horrid death march. I realize that without a proper weapon there is no stopping it.

My mind jolts through the remaining options for survival. I have to kill the thing if I want to get out. I guess I could jump out the window. I'm pretty high up, the fall might wound or kill me -- but it's my only choice. I need to distract it and make a dash for the