Numbered

It’s a fact that people are more likely to remember the events in a nightmare than in a dream.  It’s also known how nightmares are the subconscious’s ways of telling you all of your darkest fears.  Those fears create the parts of yourself that you try your hardest to hide.  What we hide however, says more than what we don't.

There is a small square of light in the middle of a dark room.  The walls that used to be a bright red have faded, leaving behind a grim reminder of lost riches.  The carpet is gone, long since stripped to bare thread, which clung to the loose nails that bent in awkward positions as they reached toward the small square of daylight.  It’s dusty and dark, the lethal mold winding up the corners of the room acting as a pillow for the drops of stale water that fall from the exposed rafters.  Drip, drip.  It's all that can be heard in the dark silence.  Its all that was heard for ages.  It sends the silence away for a moment, then lets it return even heavier than before.  Drip, drip.

I laid in the center of it, the heavy chains trapping me inside, their rusting shackles slicing the skin on my wrists and ankles, ripping open old scars and creating new ones.  My eyes were open, sensing the beam of light dance on my skin.

My parents once told me that I was very beautiful.  They would pick up a piece of my hair and twirl it in their slender fingers, commenting on how it deep it was, dark enough to drown in.  They would stroke my cheeks gently, one pair of hands smooth and soft, the other ridden with old scars.  Their warm breath would tickle my eyelashes; the ones that they said guarded a pair of scarlet eyes.

The memories made me smile, but before I could stop it, more flooded into my mind, sloshing around each other, desperate to make me remember.  I clenched my teeth as they whizzed by, some happy, others terrible, and then there was the one that I dread, because I have to relive it for every second of every day.  I kneeled down, holding my head tightly in my hands, trying to hold back tears as they formed in my eyes.

I heard their voices, one of them yelling for soldiers that he knew were dead, and the other murmuring things to herself as she grabbed my hand, yanking me through tight hallways and sharp corners.  I kept one hand out in from of me to keep myself from running into anything.  I could hear other people, their screams vibrating into my ears, desperate voices begging for help that would never come.  But I still kept up with my mother, my twelve-year-old self trying to block out their final words.  The hand on mine got tighter and more forced, and we whipped farther and farther into the tunnels, toward, where I figure, the portal was to Earth.  The one that most people made it to before the massacre began.  They had sprinted through it to safety before one drop of blood was shed, but we couldn't be saved, not yet.  We had to stay, to take as many down with us as possible.  I could still feel my older brother’s quick hug as he grabbed his girlfriend’s hand, taking her to safety.

 A yell of pain ricocheted off of the walls, and my heart constricted as I recognized it.  With a cold laugh from someone else, it was silenced.  My mother choked back a sob, her body trembling slightly as she pulled herself farther away from my father’s dead body.

With a strangled breath, she slung me into her arms, taking off with renewed desperation.   It was near us, the translucent blue cloud that wavered from floor to ceiling.  It was right there.  But it was too far away.  I heard the footsteps gaining on us, then another joining it, then another, more, until we had a whole crowd tearing toward us.

A snarl escaped my mother’s throat, and she threw me with every piece of energy she had left, propelling me at high speed toward the wall of blue, but I was caught halfway through, a pair of rough hands throwing me to the ground, next to my mom.  I landed hard on my hands and knees, feeling the skin tear from the sharp rock floor.  I reached forward, but nothing met my touch.  I inhaled sharply, then relaxed slightly as I felt my mother's hand on mine, weaving our fingers together.  She raised herself to her knees, holding me behind her as the king stepped forward, a bitter smile spread across his face.  She didn’t plead for life, she didn’t beg; she stared the angel in the eyes as he plunged his sword into her heart.  I was too stunned to scream, too shocked to cry.  I was frozen as her fingers slipped from mine, and she fell forward, the soft thud as she hit the ground repeating over and over again in my head.  There was the cruel laughter, the rattle of metal, and the fist colliding with my head, sending me spiraling into unconsciousness.

I remain in the same room I woke up in.  With heavy chains binding me to the walls, I was trapped in a empty dungeon, the small square of light reminding me everyday how much more I could’ve done, and how alone I really am.

I stood up, stretching my sore back, my ribs rubbing against my chest, poking out of the skin.  No food or water in five years, and I’m still alive.  Amazing, unless you’re like me, and you just want to die.  I didn't know why, and I didn't want to, unless I could stop it.

I hummed slightly, running my hands through my matted hair, squeezing my eyes closed to lock the tears inside.  I was still wearing the same dress as the day I was chained here.  My mother picked it out that day; dark, dark black, flowing long past my feet, now it was up to my ankles, the edges frayed and torn.

The chains rattled as I ran my hand over the grimy walls, the dirt and the slime making my hands sticky.  I welcomed the feeling, it was the only thing left to remind me that I was still alive.  The humming got louder and louder, until it turned into singing, and I immediately remembered it as the song my father would sing to me before I went to bed.

Dear Queen of the night,

Don’t be afraid to welcome light,

You can’t live in a world of fright,

So open your eyes and end the fight.

Many will come and others will go,

Tread through the wind or the rain or the snow,

Many will wonder but only you will know,

You lead with your head and your heart is in tow.

Dear Queen of the night,

Don’t be afraid to welcome light,

You can’t live in a world of fright,

So open your eyes and end the fight.

The love will dance and the pain will sway,

Over the hilltops opening day,

Many will wonder and few will say,

When did your fear drift away?

Dear Queen of the night,

Don’t be afraid to welcome light,

You can’t live in a world of fright,

So open your eyes and end the fight.

As I sang, a steady stream of tears dripped down my cheeks, and as I finished with a voice rough from disuse, I can swear I heard him singing with me.  Anytime I felt alone or upset, he’d sing me that, reminding me of the person I need to aspire to be.  I screamed in anguish, pulling at my hair as I knelt down, punching the wall.  All that I will ever be is a prisoner, a blind prisoner.