Seeking the One

Julien 4

The steady rhythmic dripping sound of something nearby in the darkness roused Julien from unconsciousness, a ringing in his ears dominated all other senses. The pain that radiated from the back of his skull stretched down and took root in his shoulders. A burning ache ran the length of his arms that were secured tightly somewhere above his head. From what Julien could tell, he figured he was chained to the wall at his back. The cold metal links dug into his flesh, grinding against his radiocarpal joints. Pain exacerbated by the weight of his arms pulling against their restraints. He had no idea just how long his arms had been in this position, but judging by the severity of his discomfort he suspected it had been quite a while. He blinked slowly at first, and then rapidly, as if trying to blink away the darkness. 

   Forcing his surroundings into focus proved an impossible task. Julien was freezing in the damp and rank air. His efforts to stand were short lived and with every move he made, the fire in his muscles grew.  Had it been hours? Or maybe even days? Julien had no way of knowing. The loss of time filled Julien with unease and dread. A foul stench hung heavy, his dehydrated swollen tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and all he could taste was the rotten air. The thirst he felt was excruciating. A panic for relief took hold of him. Burning of his arms all but forgotten, the thirst took its place on the front lines of his mind. "Hello?!" He tried to yell, but only a strangled croak escaped his cracked and peeling lips. "HELLO?! WHAT THE FUCK? WHERE AM I?" He tried once more. This time, his voice carrying far enough to bounce off of the walls around him. Julien was overwhelmed by the discomfort yelling brought. It was as if his vocal chords were being worked over by a power sander loaded with #60 grit paper and a fiberglass shard chaser. It was a torment as he'd never before experienced.

   Julien frantically tried to distract himself from the sensation lingering in his throat. In an instant, memories of the night before, or at least what he'd assumed to be the night before, sprang to attention. The last thing he remembered was Rhea. One minute she was laying peacefully asleep and intoxicating, begging for his presence, the next she had been beneath his fingertips. She had been soft just as he'd anticipated. She had also been a fighter. Which he most certainly had not anticipated. How could he have? Everything about Rhea's existence appeared to have been the epitome of pathetic. "RHEA! YOU FUCKING BITCH. YOU GET IN HERE. LET ME GO YOU PSYCHO CUNT" Julien hurled demands into the shadows for what seemed like an eternity. He screamed and yanked against his cold bindings, but there was little slack. No combination of screaming or pulling seemed to make a difference. He doubted anyone could hear him and he was no match for the chains that confined him. Defeated, Julien slumped into the rough concrete wall that kept him in place. The consistent dripping in the near distance carried him back to sleep. As he succumbed to exhaustion, an image of Rhea projected on the backs of his eyelids, the events of their first meeting flickered shakily like a vintage home movie reel.