Gloves (with alternate ending)

I had awakened in complete and total darkness, void of light and void of sound. I attempted to lift myself off of what felt like a smooth stainless steel surface, but I couldn't because every time I would try to bend either of my legs, I would be met by a sharp, crippling pain. I was immobile in total emptiness.1

For the longest time I wanted to cry out for help of any kind but I couldn't even manage to do that. Every time I would open my mouth to yell I would get nothing but a quiet, raspy, gurgling noise. I was mute in complete nothingness.2

My breathing was heavy and gurgling and the escaping air caused the opening of my throat to hurt. Despite that, I couldn't quail my breathing, my mind and body were escalating into a state panic as I in miserably prayed for either rescue or... death. I was suffering in absolute darkness.3

When I was finally able to slow my racing thoughts, I was able to think. I had to keep myself from panic; I kept telling myself that it may very well not be what it seems. I could have been in an accident, a car crash, or something of that sort and had to be hospitalized and the nurses are away. Or... it could be much worse.4

I had to think and act quickly; I felt my hands around for any familiar items and... Bingo! My hand felt a light switch, so I quickly proceeded to turn it on.5

The room was now well lit and my eyes took a brief second to adjust. Once adjusted to the light, my eyes scanned the room; I found that I was in some place that looked like the set of a horror movie scene. The walls were of reddish brown and very much rusted and the floor was a dark grey concrete and dusty with old blood stains. I turned my head to the left and saw a shiny, silver, metal surgical tray that was puddled with blood and had all sorts of scalpels and surgical tools scattered all about it. It was a horrific place I was in, but it wasn't until I looked down at my mutilated body when I really started to panic. My left leg was twisted and mangled, and had apparently been broken. My right leg, thankfully, was not broken but the skin on it was torn and cut. Then I looked down at my torso. I was dressed in a light blue patient dress that was completely riddled with blood stains.6

My heavy, gurgled breathing started up again. I moved my hands up to feel my throat. As my fingers gently caressed my neck, I felt a stitching that went all the way down from were my neck meets my chin to my Adam's apple. I moved my hands away from my neck and noticed that they were gloved. Someone had put a pair of thick, padded, leather, fingerless gloves on my hands. I pulled apart the Velcro strap at the base of the left glove and started to peel it off to find the most stomach curling sights I had seen so far.7

Underneath the glove was a skinless hand. All that was there was muscle, tissue, and bone and some weird wiring that may have been hooking up my nerves to the glove. At the sight of this my throat choked up with puke and I vomited a mixture of barf and blood that caused an intense burning sensation. All I could think about is why I hadn’t died... I just wanted to die.8

I thought all was lost, I contemplated taking one of the scalpels from the tray and running it into my head, but at that very moment I noticed something across the room. It was a door, just barely creaked open and I got the idea that if I could escape, then I may have found help. That in mind, I re-strapped the Velcro on my glove and, using my arms, pushed myself off of the metal operation table. After I dropped to the cold ground below I began my agonizing crawl to freedom, using only my arms and right leg.9

My body was in a state of complete defacement and with every push towards the door I smeared a bit of blood on the floor. I then finally reached the door and pushed it open with my right hand. On the other side was a hall that, unfortunately, I was at the end of. I began another long crawl to the end of the hall and along the way, I saw another open room. In this one was a younger blond girl who was unconscious on a chair and had a strange metal contraption attached to her head, but I was in no position to be a hero. As I passed other open rooms in the hall, I noticed even more open doors. Inside, more mangled victims hooked up to more metal contraption which made it that much more critical to get out and find help from the authorities.10

When I finally made it to the end of the hall I found my self in a larger storage room, dimly lit, and with a large, metal, yellow sliding door on the other side. I was about to make my way to my final exit when I noticed a small, black 9mm hand gun laying next to me. I picked it up, gazed into it and thought to myself that this was a better escape from my anguish and pain and that in my condition, I wouldn't be able to open the large heavy door. I picked up the gun, tightly grasping it in my hand and pressed it to my temple, the side of my head in other words. I was about to pull the trigger, but something then happened. The door was slid open and I saw a man standing there silhouetted by the headlights of his truck. The first thought that came to my head was that the man in the door way must have been the asshole that did this to me. All of the blood that I had left in me began to boil and, without hesitation, I pointed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger.11

After he had fallen dead on the ground outside I crawled over to take his truck and drive out, my gas pedal leg could move and this plan was thought only to work if I could pull myself up into the truck. Upon making it outside, I got a good glimpse of the man; he was dressed in all blue and with an orange vest on him.12

My ability to speak then suddenly returned, I looked at the bold white text printed on his vest and said, "Oh God... what have I done?” 13

The text on his jacket read "Search and Rescue" and the voice in his radio kept saying "Tom... I heard gun fire... You all right... Did you find the hostages..."14

I looked at the man I just killed, and then at the gun in my hand. I once again pressed it to my temple, and tightly with tears in my eyes, pulled the trigger. 15