A College Seeress' Diary

Sacrifice

Dear Jesus,

A pain I can't describe was pounding on my scalp.

With a loud groan, I forced my eyes open and held my head.
Where am I?

I don't know why or how, but somehow, my spiritual senses were still active.
Wherever this was, it was the opposite spectrum of GWW. It was as if an invisible portal situated here descended to hell itself.
Demons were everywhere. Crawling, leering, flapping broken wings, slithering in disgusting bodies.

They weren't too near to where I was, though. It was as if a wide berth was keeping them back. It however didn't stop them from the tirade of taunts and snarls and drooling blasphemies they spewed in my direction.

The feeling they oozed was to confirm to my mind that there was no humanly possible way out.

A few seconds after that glance, the spiritual vision flickered off like a slowly waning light bulb. The physical darkness itself was palpable.

"Hello?" I called quietly in a trembling voice. My voice echoed back. Judging from the hollow sound of my voice reverberating for a while, this place most likely had different empty compartments. The place was silent, except for the dripping sound of water and faint laboured breathing coming from somewhere I couldn't ascertain.

I briefly scanned the area as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The place was more or less a small, cave-like room. I could tell it was an underground space.

Short stalactite protrusions from the rocky ceiling leaked condensed moisture. No wonder the air and floor were damp.

The only sign that this place had been influent by humans was the steel bars barricading this space to prevent escape.

My head hurt so much and I tried to adjust my body to a more comfortable position. I was obviously dumped like a heavy sack filled with junk metal on the damp, uneven floor.

Just then, I heard a groan from the opposite side of this space from where I was kept.

I started and kept still. "Who— who's there?"

My heart was beating and I mentally began rehearsing my best defence move.

The deep, faint groan of someone in pain sounded again. I squinted my eyes for a careful look. Something was stirring.

Oh my God! It was John.  John was the one in a heap in that corner.

I shuffled towards him. I wasn't bound and neither was he. It was as if our abductors were very sure that there was no way of escape out of this place for us both.

"John?" I whispered fiercely. I dragged on all fours over to his side. I felt so weak and knew if I tried to stand at that moment, I just might collapse.

I got to him and managed to place his head on my thigh.

He was slowly regaining consciousness but his face was contoured in such pain that my heart clenched.

My eyes went to his abdomen that he was clutching with his hand and I saw that nasty, still-bleeding wound from the stab he had received. Oh, no! If John didn't get help soon, he'd either die of blood loss or infection.

I was so scared that I began to sob.

"Oh, John, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. My fault."

He gripped my hand, though weakly, and said in a pained effort, "It's not–your... Your fault. Don't blame yourself."
He gulped in the air and coughed.

"I'm so sorry," I said, clinging to his hand, and cried some more onto his hair. "What do we do? Oh, John, what do we do now?"

"Ssshh..." he croaked, rubbing my hand. What a great solace I was! "Where–are we?"