When I awoke on Sunday Morning, it rained heavily and the apartment was cold. I woke groggily and got out of bed. I remembered the events of last night a little vaguely and had a headache. There was a note on the dressing table and a message on Facebook. Both were signed by the same person and said the same thing:
Get well soon, Mr Schuberg.
I thanked the person who sent the message and made my way to my bathroom and brushed. My arms were heavy, and my head felt as if it was loosely swinging on my neck. I brushed, and collapsed on the bed. I slept till I awoke to the sound of thunder. It was raining outside and it rained softly, but consistently. It was cold and I shuddered. I turned on the heater and to my surprise, it warmed me enough. My eyes watered and I sat on the sofa, groaning and moaning because I was so exhausted. I felt the fatigue stretch my limbs painfully and then I decided that everything could go to hell. My back hurt uncontrollably, my legs felt as though knives were being pushed through them.
All in all, it was time for desperate measures.
I crawled outside, cringing at the cold rain on my face. I walked to a grocery store nearby and bought 3 bottles of Vodka.
Vodka is 37.5% alcohol. It contains a rather fun molecule of ethanol, which ends with, you guessed right, -OH. It is an awesome molecule and if chemists were poets, it would be the Muse of almost every chemist known to mankind. Books would be dedicated to this little molecule. For apart from being one of the best organic solvents, it is also a component of booze and tonight, it was going to be in my system in indecently high amounts. I was going to get drunk, I said to myself.
I staggered back up to my flat, and cracked open the bottles. I drank one, then the other, feeling the pleasant burning in my throat. Soon, I saw the warmth in the bulbs that illuminated my apartment, I felt my limbs strengthen and I felt free. Soon, I was relaxed into a haze of giddy euphoria, and I sat on the sofa and was soon fast asleep.
I awoke to someone calling my name.
“Ativ, wake up!”
I awoke. The apartment was silent and it was dark outside. I held my watch up to the light and saw that it was almost 10 at night. I heard the raspy voice again.
“Get up, Ativ, there’s a good lad”. I rose from my sofa, and walked to the direction of the voice. It was raspy and oddly familiar. “I’m right where you left me, you dirty swine”, and I walked into what was my bedroom until a few hours ago. It was now a dissection hall, and on the bed was a cadaver with its lifeless eyes looking straight at me. “Here I am, and I am still alive”, the cadaver said, and threw off the bedsheet that was covering it, and there I saw the innards spill out onto the wooden floor. “Go ahead, cut me up further, and I hope you enjoy it. Call your friends over! Call the bastards! CALL THEM!”, the cadaver yelled, its embalmed hands flailing wildly.
The cadaver was dead and yet, it spoke, and I was terrified beyond my wits.
“Ah, but you have no friends, you gormless spineless, bastard.” the cadaver’s mouth was toothless, and its face contorted into a shrunken grin. “You are alone, and while you are here, I’m going to give you a lesson in death”, and it rose from the bed.
The lights went out on me then.