Pinned

Sweat gathers at the small of your back. You writhe uncomfortably, trying to find the perfect sleeping position that doesn't exist. Lifting up the duvet briefly with an outstretched leg, cool air rushes into the swampy cocoon you've created for yourself. It feels nice for a moment, but then the shivers start, so you seal yourself in again.

Clamping your eyes shut against the daylight piercing past the curtains and rolling to your side, you pray for a quick drift into a hard and fitless sleep.

The rope slides through your hands slightly, and you let out a pained yell. For the third time, you glance around, searching for anyone to help you or anything to anchor the rope to. The closest tree now stands another ten feet away. It's hopeless.

What feels like hours have passed as you've watched a complete stranger dangle lower and lower off the cliffside as you've slowly lost your footing. Your arms burn from the strain. "I'm sorry," you whisper to yourself.

You awaken suddenly by your dog barking at the mailman. Heart pounding, you unfurl your fists that have been clenched under your chest while you slept on your stomach. Rubbing them together vigorously, you try to bring the feeling back to your hands.

Clumsily, you reach for your water bottle and gulp down the remaining water you have within arm's reach. You press the cool bottle against your forehead. Hair sticks to you in sweaty clumps around your face and neck. You stare at the abstract painting on the wall beside your bed and start naming colors: black, violet, turquoise, baby pink...

Turning the corner, you reach out your hand to flip on the light, but the light switch isn't there. Sliding your hand on the wall, you become more and more concerned. "Why is it so dark?" You try turning around the way you came and walk straight into another wall.

You place both hands in front of you. Small, hesitant steps. You trace the perimeter of the room twice. Four corners, every time. No door. No windows. Not even a seam in the walls. Your breathing turns erratic, and you've nearly reached panic levels. You struggle to breathe.

Your body jolts upright as you gasp for air. You panic as you realize that it's still pitch dark. In a desperate attempt to get out of bed, you trip and fall. Your eyes flutter open. A strangled sound escapes your lips—a half laugh, half sob. Not only were your eyes clamped shut, your legs were tangled in the sheets.

For a couple of minutes, you simply lay on the floor, taking slow, deep breaths and focusing on relaxing the different muscles in your body. After a few moments, you struggle to unravel yourself from the bed sheets and put the bed back together. The effort tires you, and you lay back down without bothering to get under all of the blankets. Sleep comes too quickly.

A violent crash rips you from a deep slumber. A heavy weight pins you to the bed, and you stare up at a gaping hole in the ceiling. Plaster, dirt, and wood fragments surround you, choking you. Movement stirs further down the bed. You fight to free your hands—your dog is still trapped beneath the debris. Your arms don't obey as you try desperately to reach him.

His head pops up, and you smile just briefly before you see it. A bushy tail scrambling from the rubble. Before you can react, your dog has lunged at the squirrel, and the squirrel has lunged at you. Pain explodes through your body. Claws dig into your chest; your body becomes a battleground. Teeth sink into your hand, but you can't see what's biting you through the blinding pain. Hopelessly, you attempt to separate the dog and squirrel, but you're rewarded only with more bites and scratches. Blood pours freely from your arms. You open your mouth to scream, but dust fills your throat.

Gasping, you sit straight up. Your chest is impossibly tight. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, muffling everything else. Fear ripples through you. Frantically, you reach out for your dog. Your breath quickens. You can't see him. Trying to call his name, all you manage is a small croak. Something moves underneath the covers. With a shaky breath, you lift the blanket, and his dark eyes greet yours. His tail sweeps back and forth across the sheets. Placing your forehead against his, you kiss his nose.

You stay like that for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. Your chest loosens, slowly. The sweat on your skin has gone cold. The room is quiet again. It's just you and your dog.

You don't close your eyes again.