Young Writers Society

Heart Bomb

My head throbs as I sit in an uncomfortable chair, my brown hair matted to my forehead with sweat. All around me is dark, the only light coming from a very dull lamp hanging from a white ceiling above me, swaying back and forth, the light bulb flickering. I spit out blood onto the tile floor, black and old, watching it hit, then splatter across with deep contrast. I feel blood trickle down my chest, so I look down and see my bare skin, but and bruised all around with a nasty looking cut over my heart, stitched up recently, the skin around it pink and infected. My sight was slightly distorted, so I close one eye and observe that one eye was almost swollen shout. I try and move my arms but they are stuck to the silver chair, the cold metal touching my back sending shivers through my nerves. My legs are tied with rough rope, the skin around it raw with blood, as well as my hands. I hear footsteps in front of me, when I see a man approach me, my head looking in the direction of his shoes, brown and pointy, his legs long legs covered in black church pants, nicely creased with no lent on them. I look up and see the rest of him, a white collar shirt with gold cufflinks and a silver ring on his finger, his face like a rats, sharp with beady brown eyes, the man's hair slicked back with grease making it darker than it probably would.

"Hello. I see you have woken." He tells me as a wicked grin creeps up his face.

"Where (cough) am I", I ask him through a bloody mouth.

"Well, that would ruin the fun. You have about ten minutes before a time-bomb goes off in your heart, killing you instantly. The switch is somewhere in this room, so if I were you, I would find it as fast as I could." He says, walking away, laughing like a psychopath, when I hear a door shut and I hear a beep start, under my chair. I look down and see a black screen, cracked and dusty with red numbers on it that read 10:00. I start to move my hands which were tied behind the chair, loosening the rope as it tears my skin around it, rubbing it off. I keep on moving my arms and hands hastily, wiggling like a bug under water trying to get to fresh air. I keep on jerking my arm when one hand slips through the rope, so I frantically untie the other one, so now my hands are free, the nails broken and crusted with dirt. I look down and see the clock, reading 7:46. I rapidly move to my legs and try to get them free from the rope, untangling the knots and sliding my feet through the rough and scratchy rope. With a final movement I pull out my left leg and then the right, just in white boxers stained with mud and blood. The clock reads 4:35, so I start to look around on the floor but there is nothing there. I press on all of them to see if there was a secret hatch or compartment but I found none. I start to run straight into the darkness, running as fast as I could when I see a faint light up ahead, so I sprint for it when I see it's a glass door. Suddenly a human heart splats against the glass and I jump back, seeing the man's psychopathic, distorted smile twisting across his face as he taps an imaginary clock on his wrist. I try and open the door but it is locked, so I punch it as hard as I can, breaking my knuckles but nothing happens. I pound on it, screaming. Then I hear a beep, counting down so I sprint towards the clock, seeing 0:23 on it. I run around the area, hearing the beep. I look again 0:16. Then it hits me. I flip the chair over and discover a red button underneath. The clock reads 0:5 and I press it with two seconds left when a white a white piece of paper falls out with the red button, so I open it and read, "Sorry. I lied."