Becca’s foot lingered above you for what felt like an eternity, suspended in the stale hospital air, casting a massive shadow over your battered body. Her breath was shallow and quick, her eyes wide with terror as she stared down at the floor, utterly unaware of the significance of the speck-sized figure clinging to her ankle. Every muscle in your body screamed in agony, the bruises from her first step leaving you shattered, barely able to move. You gasped for breath, the foul scent of sweat and grime still clinging to your lungs. You reached out one final time, desperate to make her understand.
“Becca… please…” Your voice was nothing more than a broken whisper, lost in the vast space between you and her towering form.
But her eyes, wide and glassy, stared right through you. Becca’s mind was far away, trapped in a dark, twisting nightmare of her own making, a place where nothing made sense and fear ruled her every action. And in that moment, you realized with growing horror—she wasn’t going to save you. She wasn’t even going to acknowledge you.
She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling like the swell of an ocean. Then, without a second glance, she turned away, her foot crashing down onto you once more.
The impact was brutal, your entire body compressed under the immense weight of her dirty sole, the pressure threatening to crush your bones to dust. Her foot, damp with sweat and covered in a thin film of grime, ground you into the cold hospital floor. You felt the grit and dirt that had collected on her skin embed itself into your clothes and skin, the texture of her sole rough like sandpaper, rubbing against you with every agonizing step she took.
Becca walked slowly at first, her footfall rhythmic, each step reverberating through your tiny, fragile body like a sledgehammer. The hospital floor seemed to quake beneath you as her foot repeatedly lifted and slammed down, the air squeezed out of your lungs with each step. You were helpless, flattened into the grooves of her dirty sole, your world reduced to the brutal rhythm of her walking.
Thud.
The heat from her foot radiated through your body, her sweat seeping into your skin as her sole rubbed you mercilessly with every step. You could feel the grime building up around you, a layer of filth that clung to you like a second skin, the scent thick and overpowering. It filled your nose and mouth, making it impossible to breathe anything but the stale odor of neglect and despair.
Thud.
Her steps became more forceful, as if she were unconsciously pressing harder on the ground. The tiled floor beneath you was unforgiving, amplifying the crushing force with every step she took. You were pounded mercilessly into the floor, your body mashed against the ridges and folds of her sole. The texture of her skin was coarse, the grooves of her foot etched deep into your flesh, imprinting the details of her sole onto your body.
Thud.
Every time her foot lifted, a brief moment of relief washed over you, but it was fleeting. The air clung thick with the scent of her foot, and before you could take a proper breath, her sole came crashing down again, harder than before. The world around you blurred, the steady beat of her steps drumming in your ears, the impact sending shockwaves through your body.
You could hear the faint sounds of the hospital—distant voices, the beeping of machines, the clatter of footsteps—but they were muffled, drowned out by the thunderous pounding of Becca’s foot. She walked without hesitation, her mind still lost in a fog of confusion and dread, oblivious to the devastation she was causing with each step.
Then, as she reached her room, something shifted. Becca paused, her foot hovering above the ground for a moment longer than usual. You felt her hesitation, her weight shifting ever so slightly. A thought seemed to flicker through her mind, a distant memory stirring in the depths of her fear-ridden consciousness. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and for the first time, she looked down at her foot.
Becca slowly lowered herself onto the bed, her trembling hands reaching down to pull off her shoe. Her face twisted with anxiety as she lifted her bare foot and examined the sole, her eyes scanning the dirty, worn skin. At first, there was only confusion in her gaze as she squinted, trying to make sense of the strange shape pressed into the grime.
And then she saw you.
Your tiny form was embedded in the dirt that clung to her sole, your limbs twisted and limp, your clothes soaked with sweat and covered in the grime from her foot. Every detail of your body was imprinted into the contours of her sole, the dirt and sweat mixing with your skin, making you almost indistinguishable from the filth that coated her foot.
For a moment, she just stared at you, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her breath hitched in her throat, her fingers trembling as she reached down to touch the spot where you lay, crushed into the dirty skin of her sole.
"You... you're real?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her face twisted in horror as the realization hit her. You weren't a figment of her imagination. You weren’t some ghost haunting her thoughts. You were real—and she had been crushing you underfoot this whole time.
For a moment, it looked like there was a flicker of sympathy in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something colder, more calculating. Her fear and confusion hardened into something else—resolve. She knew now what she had to do.
Becca’s lips curled into a thin, grim line as she slowly wiped you off her foot with a rough, careless motion. You tumbled onto the hospital floor, gasping for breath, your body broken and bruised, barely able to move. You looked up at her towering figure, terror gripping your heart as you saw the determination in her eyes.
Without a word, Becca raised her heel and positioned it directly above you. You could see the dirt and grime still clinging to her sole, the marks of your tiny body imprinted in the filth. She hesitated for only a second, her face set in a mask of emotionless resolve.
The hospital lights gleamed above her, casting harsh shadows across the floor as she lowered her heel.
The last thing you saw was the massive, dirty sole of her foot descending toward you, the overwhelming weight of it pressing down with brutal finality. The floor beneath you felt cold and hard, offering no comfort, no escape from the crushing force about to end your existence.
With a sickening crunch, her heel came down, grinding you into the tile. The pressure was immediate and unforgiving, your body crushed under the immense weight, your bones snapping like twigs. Every nerve in your body screamed in agony as she twisted her foot, grinding you into the floor, her heel turning slowly, methodically, as if she were extinguishing a cigarette.
The pain was beyond anything you had ever felt before, an all-encompassing agony that blurred the edges of your consciousness. You could feel the rough texture of the floor pressing into you from one side, while the filthy, calloused skin of Becca's heel ground you into oblivion from the other. The dirt and grime that had built up on her foot mixed with your broken body, staining the floor with the remnants of your existence.
Becca’s face remained cold, indifferent, as she continued to twist her heel, grinding you further into the floor, ensuring that there was nothing left of you but a smear of dirt and blood on the tile. The world around you faded into darkness, the pain slowly ebbing away as your consciousness slipped into nothingness.
In the end, you were nothing more than a faint imprint beneath her heel, a forgotten speck in the chaos of her mind.
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