Horizontal – Celeste B.

May 14, 2026

I don’t remember how I got to this prison. The night he took me, the last thing I remember is stumbling in my rhinestone stiletto pumps, taking refuge in a narrow alley by Plato’s.

Safety.

It was never a concern before being chained here, in a cage in a basement, surrounded by my own piss. I haven’t laid horizontally in a couple of days at least. I am not sure how long I’ve been here. It could be anywhere between 72 hours and two weeks. Or at least that’s what he tells me every time I ask. There is no way to keep track, and to be completely honest, I’ve stopped caring. You know why?

Drugs.

Always drugs. Since I left Plato’s he has provided a steady stream. He just smiles, grabs the IV duct-taped to my arm, and through the bars of the cage, injects the liquid in. I just stand there, feeling the taste of saline fill my mouth. Salty like nonconsensual jizz (something Freudian about that). But, like, in a way, filling — the warmth climbs up and wraps around my chest, to my head, letting me know I don’t need food. Or sunshine. Or laughter. A toilet. I need a routine, a schedule of reward, immediacy of fulfillment.

Purpose.

The basement overhead light flickers on and off once. Those 2 seconds are the only times I can actually see the room. When my vision adapts to the light, all I can see are 2 concrete pillars outside the cage, and a door to what looks like a closet in front of me. The momentary light is good. It means a treat is coming. I hear his footsteps make creaks on what I assume to be wooden steps, and I catch a quick glimpse of his shadow as he closes the door behind him. He seemed to be ordinary, you know, physically. I can never put together what he actually looks like— it’s hard to make out much when he’s disguised in darkness. I am sure he wants it that way. I make my way over to the metal bars and hold my arm through, waiting for my reward, a sweet escape from the aura of piss and the wooden chair. I am waiting to float again. I can feel him grab my arm and inject, and I brace myself for the familiar warm embrace, except this time it feels…

Different.

My body drops before I do. I am still waiting with my arm through the cage. My corpse, however, was seated. The sensation wasn’t warm, it was hot. Burning. I tried to pull my arm back but his grip was firm, finishing the injection. He takes a seat on his wooden chair beside my cage. I can almost make out his eyes. Unblinking. Behind him, a static snow begins to fill my vision, a haze floating around the black mass of his body. The heat spread from my arm around my body and settled in my stomach.

Rejection.

I threw up, again and again and again. The thick goo making its way through my leggings, onto my skin. I waved my hand in front of my face, trying to cool myself down. With each flap, I could see the transparent air floating off my fingers and lightly brushing my cheeks. I closed my eyes, trying to escape the piss pit I was trapped in. Concentric circles filled the back of my eyelids, layered on top of one another, vibrating and moving with my quick breaths. I can’t escape them. I can’t.

Breaking.

I opened my eyes, the circles filling the concrete floor, swaying in rhythm with my hyperventilating. The circles opened on the breath in, and closed on the breath out. I looked closer, and the circles shifted. Eyes. Watching me. I tried to close my own again, but kept seeing the infinite pupils, all staring, unblinking. I can’t fucking move. I can’t fucking speak. I can barely even fucking—

Breathe.

I look back over to the black mass, the only steady thing in the room. The static that once was snow was now becoming a blizzard, falling into the circles, being shot back up into the void. I started rocking in my chair. Hard. I wanted to move. I needed to stand. I have to

Escape.

I dropped out of myself again. The chair tipped and I was on the floor. My face pushed against the concrete piss floor. I began to sob. I missed my bed. I miss my family. I miss my sister. With all the power I had, I closed my eyes, and I hit my head against the floor. Again, and again, and again. I heard a crack. Good. My body can’t escape, but maybe I can. I could feel warm liquid exit my head and run into my hair, making it feel sticky, then stiff. I tried to move my arms to no avail.

“Open.”

I almost jumped. A voice. I opened my eyes, which were now covered in red globs, fermented urine, blurring my vision. But I could almost make out a face. Seph? How did she get down here? She held out her arm to mine and began to brush it, ignoring how disgusting I looked, ignoring how disgusting I felt. I tried to pull away, sparing my sister from seeing me like this. Having to feel this.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mustered, looking at her face, barely able to keep my eyes open. Her form was morphing — she looked young, then old, her hair changed from blonde to bald to blonde again, evolving, then devolving. But her eyes remained the same. Open, hurting, blue. Like the sky. I can finally see the sky again through her eyes.

“I know, neither should you,” she said. I didn’t hear any sadness, just resignation.
Behind her head, I could see the floor beginning to glow. Finally laying down, I can see the room horizontally. My body, relaxing, shimmering. A red light underneath the closet door making my sister’s silhouette outline in red. Blinking.

Alive.

“You never would’ve let this happen to me. You were the only person in this world to make me feel safe.” I whispered, hoping the black mass couldn’t overhear.

“I didn’t let this happen,” she said softly, a smile beginning to form on her chapped lips. “In fact, it probably isn’t even happening at all.”

Fading.

“Do you promise?” I asked.

“Promise.”