Hello! Haven’t been writing recently but realised hey it’s flash fiction friday, maybe i’ll have a look and this one got me excited! Thanks for doing this @flashfictionfridayofficial!
Containment Breach - 415 words
Alarms are blaring. So loud I know I shouldn’t stay. The warning lights are flashing. Big bold letters. Containment breach. Over and over, again and again. I clamp my hands over my ears and scream.
I hate the sound. I hate the words. The first time I heard them was when I saw a face through the window of my cell. I touched the door. My back smacked the wall. I didn’t know it had been electrified.
The next time I was more careful. When I saw a new face, I called out. He turned. He looked terrified. The alarm sounded. I cried.
The third was an experiment. They came in their white suits and yellow boots as they always did. They gave me my food and a fresh blue dress. I looked at the door. The open corridor. And only for a second I imgained walking through it. They tackled me before I could even try.
I didn’t notice you.
But after that, you left a note. I only read a few words before the noise started but they were plenty. “I’ll talk to you.”
I thought you’d never return but you did. It was notes at first. And then it was whispers. Actual words. The alarms got louder but your voice did too. It had a sweetness to it. Soothed. And I had to sit on my hands to stop myself reaching for you when you left.
But then I did.
I touched your glove and it was like the electricity from the door only it pulled instead of repelled. I leaned forward, looked into those velvet eyes and they didn’t dart. You were so close but then there was a crash.
And we were ripped apart.
The alarms blared and they dragged you away and my throat tore with the strength of my voice. You promised to return but you never did and now the alarms are screeching but your voice isn’t here and I never touched the door but my skin is burning and I haven’t left my room but-
You have my hand. Your fingers are warm. Your skin is calloused. Mine is tissue paper thin. I can hear the alarms. I can see the lights. But the door is open.
“We can go.” You say.
I squeeze your hand. “Is it safe?”
You smile. “I hope so.”
That’s when I realise you’re inside. You have no gloves. You have no mask. You have no fears.
