reflect or contemplate or any of those things. I know what the
worst things possible are. I know about the things that hide in the dark.
Insanity is the least of them.
I
am curled in a ball in the back corner of the room.
It's
stressing me out that I don’t know where he is.
Him
or Stuart.
I
don’t have my phone. The thing I never imagined loving, now feels as if an
appendage is missing. I miss the feel of it when it vibrated and I knew he was
there. He was always there for me. I pray they're both okay.
I
hear a scream cut through the silence. My heartbeat quickens. It sounds like
Stuart. He screams again. My back is pressing harder into the concrete. His
screams worsen. He is brought closer to my door. He is sobbing. I cannot
imagine the horrors he has seen, or the pain he has experienced, to make him
sob. But he sounds like a child. Weak and fragile. They have hurt him badly.
My
jaw is trembling. The sounds are gone again. It is my heartbeat and exhaling
breaths that keep me company in the dark.
The
darkness keeps me awake.
My
butt hurts, my heart hurts, my throat burns from the tears in there and my eyes
burn from the lack of sleep. The door opens. The light is harsh and white. I
squint to see a hand rise in the open space. A gun is lifted. I don’t have time
to flinch or cry out. The dart is sticking out of my arm and I am sliding down
the wall. The door is closed again. My throat gets thick and my limbs feel like
they're getting fatter. When I hit the floor I cannot move. My eyes flutter and
then close.
When
they open again I am alone in the dark. I put a hand down on the cold concrete
floor and rub it back and forth. I dreamt I was back in my dorm. The cold hard
floor tells me otherwise.
I
push and lift myself up. My arms tremble and shake. I'm weak. Hunger and thirst
are brutal. I push myself back into the corner again. I hate how dark it is. It
feels like a vast empty space.
When
I rub my eyes I feel like my hands are bonier than they were. I don’t know how
many days have past. My stomach is pulled in and I can feel my ribs when my
arms sit on my belly.
I
was already thin from the sprints, but now I am skinny. It has to have been at
least seventy-two hours to get me to this point. No food. No water. I am going
to die soon. I want to cry out. I want to beg. But I don’t. I sit and wait. I
don’t wait long when the screams happen again.
My
hands shoot to my ears, covering them. I sob along with him. It's Stuart again.
He cries out words. I don’t know what they are but he is begging. Pleading. It
sounds like they're ripping his fingers off. Maybe they are. I sob dry heaves
and shake.
"Please
god. Please save him. Please make them stop." I whisper into the darkness,
desperate to drown out his screams and pleas.
A
movement catches my attention. I almost crawl up the wall. "Who's
there?" I whisper.
A
chuckle lets loose. It fills up all the air and space. It's a man.
"Who
are you?" I wonder for a second if he's real. I could be so hungry that I'm
hallucinating. I'm starving.
"Emalyn
Spicer. Such a interesting name."
It’s
the man who chased me. My stomach still hurts where he kicked me. I cling to
myself and turn my face away from where he is.
"What
do you know about your life before Emalyn Spicer?"
I
hate the way he's saying my full name.
"I
know who you are. It's all very fascinating. I know you aren’t Emalyn Spicer,
are you? Fascinating indeed." His voice is harsh and cruel.
A
loud bang breaks the quiet of my harsh breaths and his soft chuckles.
The
door opens.
The
bright-white light is there.
I
see something in the gap of the door and the frame.
It's
Stuart. He's unconscious and being dragged by my room. His hands and face are
bleeding heavily. I cover my eyes quickly.
The
slapping footsteps fill the gaps between my shuddering breaths. They draw
closer for a second. They're right in front of me. I avert my gaze and tremble.
He bends down. I can hear everything he does. He grabs my
worst things possible are. I know about the things that hide in the dark.
Insanity is the least of them.
I
am curled in a ball in the back corner of the room.
It's
stressing me out that I don’t know where he is.
Him
or Stuart.
I
don’t have my phone. The thing I never imagined loving, now feels as if an
appendage is missing. I miss the feel of it when it vibrated and I knew he was
there. He was always there for me. I pray they're both okay.
I
hear a scream cut through the silence. My heartbeat quickens. It sounds like
Stuart. He screams again. My back is pressing harder into the concrete. His
screams worsen. He is brought closer to my door. He is sobbing. I cannot
imagine the horrors he has seen, or the pain he has experienced, to make him
sob. But he sounds like a child. Weak and fragile. They have hurt him badly.
My
jaw is trembling. The sounds are gone again. It is my heartbeat and exhaling
breaths that keep me company in the dark.
The
darkness keeps me awake.
My
butt hurts, my heart hurts, my throat burns from the tears in there and my eyes
burn from the lack of sleep. The door opens. The light is harsh and white. I
squint to see a hand rise in the open space. A gun is lifted. I don’t have time
to flinch or cry out. The dart is sticking out of my arm and I am sliding down
the wall. The door is closed again. My throat gets thick and my limbs feel like
they're getting fatter. When I hit the floor I cannot move. My eyes flutter and
then close.
When
they open again I am alone in the dark. I put a hand down on the cold concrete
floor and rub it back and forth. I dreamt I was back in my dorm. The cold hard
floor tells me otherwise.
I
push and lift myself up. My arms tremble and shake. I'm weak. Hunger and thirst
are brutal. I push myself back into the corner again. I hate how dark it is. It
feels like a vast empty space.
When
I rub my eyes I feel like my hands are bonier than they were. I don’t know how
many days have past. My stomach is pulled in and I can feel my ribs when my
arms sit on my belly.
I
was already thin from the sprints, but now I am skinny. It has to have been at
least seventy-two hours to get me to this point. No food. No water. I am going
to die soon. I want to cry out. I want to beg. But I don’t. I sit and wait. I
don’t wait long when the screams happen again.
My
hands shoot to my ears, covering them. I sob along with him. It's Stuart again.
He cries out words. I don’t know what they are but he is begging. Pleading. It
sounds like they're ripping his fingers off. Maybe they are. I sob dry heaves
and shake.
"Please
god. Please save him. Please make them stop." I whisper into the darkness,
desperate to drown out his screams and pleas.
A
movement catches my attention. I almost crawl up the wall. "Who's
there?" I whisper.
A
chuckle lets loose. It fills up all the air and space. It's a man.
"Who
are you?" I wonder for a second if he's real. I could be so hungry that I'm
hallucinating. I'm starving.
"Emalyn
Spicer. Such a interesting name."
It’s
the man who chased me. My stomach still hurts where he kicked me. I cling to
myself and turn my face away from where he is.
"What
do you know about your life before Emalyn Spicer?"
I
hate the way he's saying my full name.
"I
know who you are. It's all very fascinating. I know you aren’t Emalyn Spicer,
are you? Fascinating indeed." His voice is harsh and cruel.
A
loud bang breaks the quiet of my harsh breaths and his soft chuckles.
The
door opens.
The
bright-white light is there.
I
see something in the gap of the door and the frame.
It's
Stuart. He's unconscious and being dragged by my room. His hands and face are
bleeding heavily. I cover my eyes quickly.
The
slapping footsteps fill the gaps between my shuddering breaths. They draw
closer for a second. They're right in front of me. I avert my gaze and tremble.
He bends down. I can hear everything he does. He grabs my
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