Weekly-ish Challenge #12 - Hindsight

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Welcome to another weekly challenge where everyone and anyone can write to their heart's desire! Where theres no pressure, no demands and its all in the name of fun and showing off your mad writing skillz. Step right up and take a bow for theres a phase over here that ready and waiting just for you.

For those new here its a simple as taking the phrase below and writing a paragraph, 5-10 minuets making wordy art for everyone's reading pleasure. Put as much effort into it as you like because here theres no plot except for what you got.

This week's phase: I wish someone had told me.
I wish someone had told me that this would happen.

At four in the morning, here I stand now, locked in a basement, trying to convince my best friend to stop trying to burn down his house. I can smell the smoke, and I can hear him pacing above me... he's mumbling to himself, probably scared shitless, but that wasn't going to excuse the fact that he was really fucking up here.

He was burning down the house, and he was still inside... and I'm in the basement... eventually the fire's gonna get into here... either that, or I'm going to suffocate from lack of air.

What was worse, was that I've been tied to a fucking CHAIR. Wonderful. How am I going to get out of this?

"DOUG! CALM THE FUCK DOWN AND GET ME OUT OF HERE!" I shout frantically, before trying to jolt the chair into moving. That only results in the chair tipping over and I feel something snap.

Oh.... it's all good, it was just my forearm. Great.

"DOUG!" I shout again, and then figure that he isn't coming. I'm screwed if I don't get moving. So I struggle with my one good arm, every movement sending ripples of pain into my other arm. At some point, the blood that came from the ropes rubbing against my wrists, actually worked as lubricant to pull my good arm free, and then worked on everything else.

Honestly, I got in this position because my ex-husband, Doug, had called me two days ago, frantic. His new wife and kid just died in a pretty gruesome plane accident, he had gone off his meds.

I figured it was grounds to go visit to make sure he'd be ok...

Now, all I'm trying to do is find another way out of this basement other than the wooden stairs. I hear a horrid scream, and know it's Doug. I freeze and listen to it, transfixed. It goes on for a couple minutes before dying out. Then I worked more frantically on finding a way out.

My ex husband is dead or severely injured at this point. I can't let myself think about it. About my time with him. About our fights. About what he did... I just needed to focus on getting out...

Then I saw it. The door out of here.

But there was no way to get to it... the door was five feet off the ground, with no staircase or anything leading to it... Goddamn it, you freaking psycho, Doug... you're gonna be the death of me!

With no other idea or hope, I start trying to climb the brick wall.
My eyes strained open, blinking a few times to make sure that my eyelids still weren't touching the bottom lids. I still couldn't tell if I was staring at the back of my eyelids or just if the whole room was dark. I reached my arms up to try to rub my sore eyes, but my hands banged into a ceiling of some sorts before they could reach my face. Confused, I then decided to move my arms outward, but was stopped again by walls just a little bit out further than my shoulders.

My breathing hitched up and my brain was going haywire trying to find out what direction and position I was in. My legs were numb - assuming that my legs were still there - as I tried to move my hands closer to my thighs to see if I could make out any area of my skin. In the pitch black, my fingers could feel the surface but my legs could not. I felt my fingers move over the top of my thigh and curve down to the side, letting out a sigh of relief to know that I still had my legs intact.

Now I had to know if my face was there as well. I awkwardly positioned my wrist and elbow to my bellybutton in that cramped space, slowly traveling up to my ribs. I took a deep breath as I let my fingers slide past my breasts and touch my collarbone, and my whole body shook in fear as I wondered whether my face would still be symmetrical or whether my fingers would be greeted with a gaping, liquid hole where my nose was supposed to be. I let my fingers walk up to my chin, feeling the dry, cracked surface of my skin for the whole way through. Ever so carefully, I outlined the bottom of my lip with my pointer finger, moving onto outline the rest of my lip, then my cheekbone, then over my nose and nostrils, up to my eyes, eyebrows, and finally reaching my hairline on my forehead.

I closed my eyes in appreciation of my perfectly healthy face, letting my hands massage my temples to try to calm my headache down. I tried to stretch out my body in the cramped space I had by rolling my wrists and shoulders.

Then I awkwardly moved my hands back to my sides, feeling my heartbeat settle down again. I didn't know where I was or what direction my body was in still, but knowing that I was still intact if I ever need to make a run for it calmed me down.

Not knowing what to do now, I spent about 10 minutes just staring into the darkness, feeling weightless, before I started to think harder. Using my brain was the only thing I could do right now in the cramped space that I was in. So, I was recalling the history of my family members, friends, teachers, houses, pets, and every else that I had gained in life to try to adjust myself back to who I was as a person. However, as I thought more and more, and the deeper I went into my own life, the lonelier I felt. Those memories and thoughts didn't feel connected to me anymore, like they were all from my past. I was truly alone now, and unless I could find my way out of here then I would continue to be forever lonely. I didn't even get a chance to find love or have a child; did I even have enough time to find a job? I could barely remember anything now. It was like someone scooped my memories out of my head and I could see then evilly grinning at my paralyzed body, pouring my memories into a polluted river.

I wish someone would've told me that it would be like this, because if I had known earlier then I would have been cremated instead.