The lights flicker. Droplets rain from the broken pipeline. Melancholic, dark blue smoke haunts every corner of the room. Nothing can come out; no one can come in. Within a beige sleeping bag, a rumble implodes.
A pale, considered small hand peeks out. Unzipping as quickly as it can, it reaches its maximum extent and gasps for air. A distraught, light-brown-haired boy reveals himself. He takes in the scenery and frowns in deep confusion. His eyes, ajar, try to take in as much as they can.
The rest of the sleeping bag slips off him as he stands up. He begins to take a step back, into the unknown. Then another. And another. POW! The horrid look on his face intensifies. He can now hear someone else in the room, a couple of steps to his right. There stands a door. It's shut. He doesn't dare take a step anymore. After a moment of silence, loud banging, slamming and kicking echo. The limp boy, who can barely take another step without trembling in fear, lets out a meek gasp.
The door breaks open. A sudden kick almost damages it to ruins. A bald-headed, fat, snobby man takes a step in his run-down boots. He's breathing heavily with a threatening look on his face. He seems out for blood. He begins to shout and rummage through the room. As he searches for the unknown, the afraid boy stands still. He doesn't know what's going on. He can't seem to make sense of anything.
To make it even worse, the man shouting is stressing him. He doesn't dare to speak up or move. Suddenly, the man turns his head toward the boy. His eyes were still threatening to pop out of his thick skull. The boy freezes. The man begins to stomp his thick, ugly boots toward the shaking boy. "HEY! You! You little shit!" He picks up the boy by his collar while spitting nasty words. "Where am I?! Tell me before I fuck you up!"
The boy stiffens in fear. Before he can get a word out, a woman hurries out of the same room the old man just exited. She glances around, her expression tired but composed. "Richard, are you here?" she calls, her voice steady but edged with impatience. The man's eyes widen, and he lets the boy drop to the floor. The confused boy lands on his knees and wraps his arm gently around his injured neck. The woman pauses, scanning the unfamiliar space. "What are you doing here?! I told you to stay put," the man grumbles, trying to control his temper.
The woman scoffs, clutching her pearl handbag a little tighter. "We've been stuck in there for hours. I need to stretch my legs, not sit in a stuffy bathroom." The man clenches his fists, trying to hold back his irritation. Suddenly, a creak comes from the room she just left. The woman turns slowly to look. POW! The door slams shut again. The man rushes toward it, desperately trying the handle. "Shit! What is happening?"
As the man continues to struggle with the doorknob, the woman gazes around the room. She notices the boy on the floor. "Oh, you poor thing. You must be just as confused as we are." The old lady walks up to the young boy and reaches her hand out to him. The boy looks up at her and hesitates. He blinks once. "Thank you, ma'am..."
The meek boy stands up with the help of the lady. "Richard! You should really consider therapy again. I'm not judging, but that temper of yours needs to be put under control."
As the woman explains, the boy tries to steady himself and properly examine the situation he's in. His eyes wander across the dimly lit room. The man is still fighting with the doorknob, and the woman is shaking her head lightly while looking at her husband, and further into the room, two sleeping bags lie side by side, their shapes unmistakably lumpy. He hesitates, squinting to get a better look. He decides to approach the sleeping bags. Questions are running through his mind, but he tries to focus on the bags. Suddenly, the bags start moving and struggling on their own.
The woman and the man notice this as well and gaze toward the bags. The boy, without thinking twice, runs toward them and tries to unzip them. The man sees this and runs to stop him. "What are you doing, you little shit?!" The boy ignores him and reaches for the zipper.
He pulls it down, and an out-of-breath woman sits up panicking. "My girl, my baby, where is my baby?!" She cries out loud and frantically looks around. The boy flinches and leans away from the woman. Suddenly, there's a muffled voice coming from the other sleeping bag. This time, the boy hesitates, but the woman unzips it immediately. A small girl tumbles out, gasping for breath. The mother gets out of the sleeping bag as quickly as she can. She gathers her daughter into her arms, holding her close. "My baby, oh, sweetie..." The boy tries to rally the number of events happening in just under a few minutes. The man runs a hand through his hair and down his face. "Chastity, you old hag, get over here." The old woman reluctantly walks over to her husband. "There's no way out." He declares.
The woman doesn't react. "We have to try." The boy suddenly chimes in. Everyone turns to look at him. He purses his lips together awkwardly due to all of the attention on him.
"I, I'm not sure what is happening here, right now... But I also believe we're stuck." The mother wipes her tears away and looks at the boy, confused. "What are you saying? Who are you people?" The boy stands up. "It seems like we're the only ones here."
The woman looks down in despair while her child clings to her shirt. There is a subtle change passing through the room as everyone quiets down, seemingly grasping the stakes of the situation.