Timothy Alan - Victor's Countdown: 6 Days Left lyrics

October 16th, 2012 / 7:14pm – Six days until I die The sun came up this morning. A problem did too. As I lay in bed nervously anticipating the daylight, there was a sharp knock at the door. It is worth noting that even before the addiction, before the outbreak…I was a very paranoid man…so now, after everything, I stand somewhere near the precipice of batsh** insanity. Who could have been at t...he door at 5:30am? Room service? I didn't order it. Does the kitchen even open that early? No one in a hotel wakes up at 5:30 unless they are me…or on a business trip. Housekeeping? Last night I triple-checked that the “Do Not Disturb” sign was hanging from the doorknob outside…so it couldn't be them. The rays of the sun squeezed between the blinds and beamed me directly in the eyes. My eyes were closed, but my face was warming up and I could see the red of my inner eyelids. 94 billion miles away…and the Demon managed to have perfect aim. Before long, the sharp knock turned into a loud bang, I lay still as both the Demon and the unwanted intruder attempted to muscle their way into my space. I remember asking myself which was the lesser of the two evils…I continued to lie still as I contemplated…that's when the decision was made for me. “OPEN UP Mr. Voloshin, we just want to talk!” a voice called from the other side of the door. They knew my name. How? I jumped out of the bed and quietly made my way to the peephole…that's when I saw them. There were four men standing in the hallway, each of them dressed in all-black paramilitary uniforms. They had automatic rifles strapped to their backs, and gas masks that left them expressionless. They wore flak-jackets with the letters Q-U-I-E-T printed boldly across the front. I'd seen those large white block letters before. They stood for “Quarantine Unified Internal Enforcement Team”. They were tasked with ensuring that people like me stayed in their cages. They weren't very nice, and certainly not very quiet. I'm still trying to figure out how they found me, I guess I'll never know. I can only a**ume the lady at the front desk tipped them off. But how did she know I was infected? I'm not showing any external signs…yet. The banging continued while I frantically raked my brain for a solution to my problem. I couldn't think straight because of how thirsty I was. So thirsty. At that point I looked at the clock. 5:33am. God. I was late. I needed a drink…badly. The voices outside were loud, but the voices inside my head were even louder. Too much going on. Too much…shouting. I was being pressed from every angle, I was losing control. Bang!! They were breaking in. Maybe a battering ram. Who knows. Bang!! God, I was so thirsty. BANG!!! Where did I put it? BANG!!! Under the mattress? BANG!!!! In the drawer? BANG!! BANG!!! BANG!!! The bathroom!! I left it in the bathroom!! I ran to the far side of the room and flung open the bathroom door. There it was…my drink. Five syringes sat in a neat row on the sink. I slammed the bathroom door shut as the door to the room flung off its hinges. I heard the QUIET team pour into the room. I locked the bathroom door. My memory of what happened next is hazy at best…but I know that I sat on the toilet, rolled up my left sleeve(I sleep in my clothes), yanked off my belt, and tightened it around my left bicep. The bathroom doorknob jiggled. They were calling for me; they began to pound on the door. BANG!! It didn't matter to me. BANG!! I grabbed a syringe off of the sink BANG!! I bit the cap off with my teeth BANG!! I tested it, a clear liquid spurted from the tip of the needle. Beautiful. BANG!! BANG!! BANG!! I stabbed the needle into the largest, most pulsating vein in my forearm. BANG!! BANG!! BANG!! I pumped every last drop into my body. The door buckled under pressure. Everything got blurry. God was in His Heaven…laughing at my misfortune. I was on a toilet in New York City…laughing too.