Page 21
I force my eyes away from the city and take out my phone. The Nokia wakes up and displays the time. Six twenty five. A sensation begins to sturr in my abdomen, a feeling I am all too familiar with: hunger. Removing the filter section, I trek to the fridge to find some milk and… Haha, how can I resist? “Hey, do any of you mind if I grab some cake?”
The jock, currently watching TV, whips around and takes a look at the fridge. “No, not at all. Help yourself. Just don’t eat too much, we bought that.” He returns to watching the renowned TV show ‘Love Island’
I look at the third, his head stuck staring at his laptop screen. Not a stirr. Without a second thought, hands reach for a plate in the sink and begin washing it with the apple scented washing up liquid.
The aroma of chocolate cream from the sponge cake incarnates my senses. The metallic spoon sinks into the cake with barely any effort, vanilla cake with milk chocolate whipped cream on top, dark chocolate pieces encrusted onto the sides. The velvety texture melts my mind as it enters my mouth. The soft cream dissolves on my tongue, stimulating a smooth sensation. Ah, finally, some good cake. Opening my eyes, I find an empty plate in my hands. God dammit. Looks like i’ll have to wait for a while before I get any more. I place the plate back in the sink and return to the bed beside the window.
Page 22
Back to reading the book, I stumble upon a section about oxygen deprivation. I add the page to the collection of pages that I would like to refer back to when working. After folding the corner of the page, I turn to the filter section on the desk beside me, studying the shape of the section. I wonder if… maybe it will work.
“Hey, you haven’t explained that mask to us yet.” Looking up, I find the jock examining the filter as well. Seems like his show finished for the night.
“Well, I put it on the filter (puts on filter) and it clicks into place, on the filter section are two oxygen filters.”
“So, wait, you need extra oxygen?”
“No, it’s quite the opposite. I need less oxygen. You see, I work differently from others. My thoughts can be overwhelming, my mind works extremely fast and sometimes, although more recently, it can go haywire. Depriving me of oxygen ensures that my brain activity stays low. In order to allow my body to remain functioning normally, a lot of the blood going to my head is redirected to the body by a needle. It draws blood from my carotid artery and deposits it in the pulmonary vein.” I lift my head to expose my lower jaw, showing a plastic tube filled with a red liquid coming out underneath the right side of my jaw, and another leading to the left hand side, plunging deep into my body symmetrically, two tubes coming out of both sides underneath my lower jaw.
Page 23-24
“Holy mother of God, how did you manage that? Doesn’t it hurt when you put it on? How do you manage to get the needles there every time you put it on?”
“I don’t. There are implants on my neck where the tubes go. Once I put the tubes in place, I pull a lever here which opens the implants, allowing the blood to flow through.” I point to where the tubes connect to my lower jaw. Metal implants receive the blood and transport it to the vein. Next, I point to a miniature lever under the right filter of my filtration section.
“I see, but does it hurt when you put it on?”
“A little, just feels like a small nip.” I have no idea why I lied. Just kinda came out. Looking at the jock, he blankly stares at the mask, reminding me of something similar. Wait, what was it again? It feels like deja vu. Like the mask has been stared at once before. I mean, it’s a mask that looks quite mechanical, anyone in public would like to take a second look to ensure they are not seeing things. But the way he looks at it, it’s familiar. “Hey, you zoned out?” He looks back up at me.
“Oh, right. Yeah, that’s quite a thing you got there.”
“Thanks.”
“So, you made it.”“Yep, but the implants, I only designed them. I had a friend get them in. Of course, not open surgery but almost like shoving something down a hole.” At that point, he gives a small smirk, obviously trying to hide it. I hear a choking sound to my right. The third seems to have choked on water that he was trying to drink. And I finally get it. Oh, for goodness sake. That sounded so wrong. “I hate you guys.” And with that, I start to get my blankets on me to hunker down for a spot of night time reading.
Page 25
The night flies by, stars streak across the sky, cars zoom past the residentials. That’s what it would be like if time passes at the rate I want it to. My eyes dart to the bottom of the page to find three numbers, each one beside the other. 254. Got it. Placing the book down, I start getting all my clothes on. More accurately, jeans, jacket, pair of socks and trainers, I already have a t-shirt on. I take the spare keys to the apartment and leave with a notebook and red pen. And of course, I slot the two filters back in place after leaving them beside the heating while I was reading.
The warm early autumn atmosphere hangs around me as I walk down the streets. Students cling close to the bars and nightclubs as their ‘last night before uni’ starts. I disregard them and resume walking past the party goers. After crossing a bridge, I take a left onto Round Church Street and my destination comes into view.
20,000 Words 