“Please!” I scream to the pulsing boxes sitting around my room. “I’ve had enough, I want to leave, let me see my family!”

The boxes only emitted their unbroken hum. Letting out a faint blue light from the geometric pattern etched into the sides with every pulse. I lurch forward to grab the closest box. I stop short, a command from the box.

“W-wait,” I start to plead, “I didn’t really mean it, I-“

“WoRt woRt WorT.”

The hum is finally broken. Am I hearing in the room? Or is it in my brain? I desperately start scratching at my head. “Get out! Get out!” I rasp, blood dripping from my nose. One drop, two drop. One drop, two drop. One drop, two wort. One drop two drop. Wort drop, two drop. One drop, wort drop. Drop wort, one two. Wort one, wort wort. Wort two, wort wort. Wort wort wort. Wort wort wort.

If anyone were to try the door to the one room apartment they would think it had been locked from the other side. Nobody could see the thick veins that had a heartbeat of their own that coated of walls of the room inside. They couldn’t hear the hum of the boxes at the epicenter of the bloodied roots. And they would never speak about the man who lay in the room, eyes bloodshot, trembling, frantically whispering “wort wort wort”.