Fuck, the needle again. They always put in my neck and then the sands shift again, their grains becoming smaller, passing through the cracks of me to pour on the ground. If I had eyes that worked I could see piles of me beneath the chair. Maybe when they shine the light I will see.
The Needle. The Chair. The Light. I heard myself laugh because I did that. I laughed like that when things weren’t funny. The needle, the light and the chair. It was like some fucked up psychedelic version without a Mr. Tumnus to greet me and of course, there was no snow. There was only the sand in the my mind.
“Eric?” I called again, begging him to come and get me before the light came on again. Eric would save me. Eric always saved me. I saw him then, rising from the sand to come to me, tall, beautiful, powerful. He was mine and I was his and he would kill these fuckers for taking me. He would find me. Eric would always find me.