Chapter 3: Chapter One: Dirt and Grime

I awoke with a start.

Accompanying my abrupt awakening, was a splitting headache. 

Ignoring the brain pain, I attempted to open my eyes.

I'm not sure if I succeeded or not, since all I saw was complete and utter darkness.

Okay, that’s odd… Let me retrace my steps.

I tried to recall the things I could remember before passing out.

Hmm. I remember getting my hands on some alcohol from that upperclassman. Now that I think about it, she was totally trying to get me drunk. What a perv. 

Anyways, with the beer secured, I made a stop at the flower shop to get some angel’s trumpets.

They were only sold at this one eccentric flower shop on the far outskirts of town.

They were mama’s favorites. Apparently, them being poisonous was just the icing on the cake for her. Haah. I miss that weirdo so much.

After that, I made my monthly trip to the cemetery. My memory after arriving is a big fat chunk of nothing.

So, logically, I think the headache can be chalked up to a hangover. I don’t even think I made it through a whole can of beer. Woohoo for low alcohol tolerance. 

But that doesn’t really account for the perpetual darkness. Can’t say I’m feeling that one all that much.

There’s got to be some reason behind this. 

Maybe those ‘mafia’ guys who I pissed off finally got to me?

I totally thought they were like cosplayers or whatever you call it. Who’d seriously join a mafia and not even have a drop of Italian blood in them?

Well, burying someone alive just screams mafia. Kudos to them. They talked the talk and walked the walk, I guess.

I'm not sure why but I just don’t think that's the case.

Anyways, while my thoughts were drifting, I tried to wiggle my toes, only to receive no reaction.

Then I attempted to wave my arms; again, I was met with no response.

I tried to crane my neck, only to find my body stuck.

Blinking my eyes? Nope.

Flaring my nostrils? Nada.

Moving my mouth? Forget about it.

None of which makes much sense….

Unless, of course, they completely dismembered me. Which I can’t deny as a possibility… but I legitimately saw one of them help an old lady cross a street and buy her groceries. If that isn’t a golden example of the actions of a model citizen, I don’t know what is.

Even then, assuming they really did cut me into minced meat, it still doesn’t thoroughly explain everything?

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If they really tore me limb from limb, gouged my eyes out among other things, then why am I still alive?

I should totally be bleeding out, or rather I should have bled out already. Unless…they have some evil doctor on their team. Someone who could stitch me up and leave me on the brink of death.

Wait. Stop. That’s a rabbit hole I definitely don’t want to go down.

Putting that aside, shouldn’t I be freaking out right now?

Regardless of whatever led them to be in the situation, I assume most people would be crapping their pants right now.

But I feel nothing. Not even a calmness, but a distinct lack of emotion. I guess is that is also technically calmness.  

I’ve never been the most emotional person, except for me bawling my eyes out at the cemetery but I’ll ignore that. But nothing at all? That seems pretty odd… Maybe my emotions are being inhibited or suppressed by some mystical force? I can’t think of any logical reason...so supernatural it is.

That’s another question added to the list, I guess.

Speaking of questions, while I have no real control over my body or the lack thereof, I’m somehow acutely aware of the soil around me.

The dirt was grimy and coarse. At the same time, it was fertile, nutritious, and…delicious?

Nutritious and Delicious? Seriously? How can I even taste it?

I can’t move at all but can somehow taste dirt. I’m like a super earthworm.

Silly earthworm, dirt is for kids.

Guess stupid jokes still pop in my head at random. I don't know whether I should be happy or irritated at that. Too bad I don’t really feel anything.

Anyways, that leads me to my second idea, which is undeniably illogical and probably not plausible in the slightest. But with the discovery of my newfound ability to discern the taste of soil, I’m tempted to believe two things. One, I died and was reincarnated. Two, the thing that I have now become is not human.

Which honestly wouldn't be that bad. I might even welcome it? Most of humanity can go kick rocks. Most people are despicable and selfish. Not that I'm pointing any fingers, I say that from personal experience. I was just as human as the next guy. We became the dominant creatures on Earth through ingenuity and intelligence…yet somehow, we still can be the dumbest things on the planet. It just perturbs me to no end. But the possibility of being something else is something I fantasized about for as long as I can remember. 

Something about being a weak fleshy meat sack just didn’t sit right with me. Especially since I am a guy. Who the heck wants to be a guy? Like seriously? Forced to be an angry yet unemotional, sport-loving, overtly sexual, and aggressive being. All because of one chromosome. 

 If it was possible just wish to be a girl, or take a pill, or get cursed by a witch, or something crazy like that and actually become one? There wouldn’t be any guys at all. Unfortunately, reality is often disappointing. Or something. Either way, it's just something guys had to deal with.

Well, there might be one person who is happy being a male. That sperm donor of mine. I refuse to call that thing my father. Not like he ever was one to me anyways. My name, which is the only thing he ever gave me, is proof in its own. 

The name Adim was a play on words, being similar to Adam, the man who condemned the human race and also the word dim. Apparently, my father thought that my birth made the world a dimmer place. 

Not to mention the work I found in the garage after he abandoned ship. The things I found…the notes I read…I’ll never forgive him for what he did. If I had ever seen him again, I would have ripped him limb from limb and made him eat his own fingers. And then slowly dip him into a vat of acid.

Wait, if my second hypothesis is correct, wouldn’t that mean that I have no connection with that thing? I would share no blood, or DNA or would even be the same species as him...presumably.  I could finally throw away the shackle that he put on me from the day I was born, my name. 

Aw, crud. I went on a philosophical tangent, didn’t I?

Well not like I can do much else stuck here buried in dirt and smothered in darkness. 

If only there was a way ou-GAH!

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