The Secret

Two

Three whole days.

That's how long it's been. And long it was.

Three whole days. Of trekking. Eating insects. Hiding from the predacious jaguars that govern the rainforest. Drinking the sweet, cool, morning dew that dripped off ferns and the cacao trees.

I don't know exactly where I am in the world, but my general knowledge spent at eleven years of schooling have given me some vague pinpoint of my whereabouts to be somewhere in the Amazon rainforest. It is completely wild; and I have come across absolute no trace of a native tribe whatsoever. Toucans, sloths, red-eyed tree frogs and yellow-spotted green geckos decorate the landscape, an intricate pattern buzzing with life. A tiger butterfly brushes past my lashes as I slip through the thick understorey, my fingernails already torn and ragged from scavenging moss and lichen for things to eat.

Rainfall is not uncommon. Last night there was a huge downpour; aquatic diamonds cascading from the sky, enshrouding me in a blanket of belief that maybe this could be the place I call home. Vegetation, water, shelter and a humid climate means that I will never go without.

The sun blows hot, sticky kisses upon the dancing tropical landscape, and I let out an almost inaudible gasp of exhaustion. It is around midday, the peak of heat in the jungle. The animals and plants love it, but I, however, do not. An uncontrollable urge to scream for help wavers over me, but I resist the temptation in case the Guardians that I outran the other night are looking for me. Of course they would be looking for me. Me - their most prized and precious kill. Their invaluable catch.

My head swirls, the thick undergrowth and brushes melting together as I slip into another one of my hallucinations as a result of the dehydration. Despite the downpour last night, I have not found any solution to store water.

This time the dream is a familiar one - it is a part of my story, a now distant memory. I am submerged once again into a room - my old bedroom, before the Guardians came to capture me. An old man and equally old lady smile down at me as I lie on my tartan-quilted bed, the smell of a crackling fireplace and spices lingering in the winter air. Winter. It was a cold, harsh one, but my heart was brought warmth and joy by the old couple. Their weathered eyes looked lovingly upon their nourished granddaughter as they farewelled her. Farewelled for what or why, I do not know.

"You will be safe, my dear, I promise," Grandma said, stroking my long, silken hair. "They'll look after you."

Lies. Lies, lies, lies. That's all it was. That's all they were.

My mind drags the corpse of my consciousness back to reality. Instinctively, my fingers reach out to stroke my long, silken hair, but instead come in contact with short, prickly stubble. The Guardians. They shave the hair off their prisoner's heads and tattoo a barcode onto our upper left arms as a warning to the outside world to show their possession over us. As if we are animals. Objects. Lifeless things.

My fingers gently caress the smooth skin of my arm, slightly ridged from the barcode. My number reads 2961998. Although each prisoner gets a unique, randomly selected number, mine happened to coincide with my birthday. How ironic.

I stand up, slowly, fighting back the small seed of regret inside me about escaping the complex. Yes, I was poorly treated, but I was given food, water and shelter. Here, everything is thriving but me.

That's when I hear it. The miraculous sound. The sound of glory.

The sound of a waterfall.

I'm stumbling now, tripping clumsily over the twisted roots and vines growing on the forest floor. Hope reignites inside of me. Fresh water to drink, a bath... I was right all along! I can, and I will survive in this rainforest. How could I think I wouldn't?

I see a clearing ahead of me, but not before one final attack from a clump of trees block my path. Lemurs scamper away hurriedly as I violently part the branches. First, a naturally occurring orchard surrounds the clearing, and then gives way to lush wild grass that eventually sinks into a miniature waterfall, complete with cave and a pool just big enough for two people to bathe in. My parched throat cries out for help, a cry that this time will be heard. I plunge my whole head into the cool, sweet water, and drink until I can drink no more.

But something strange is happening. The water's swirling now, like a whirlpool, gentle at first but rapidly growing into a monstrous aquatic cyclone. It's too late now, though, because just as I am about to lift my head above the surface, the force of the pulling water drags my whole body inwards, sinking, deeper and deeper into the crystal water. I feel my lungs burn as they fill with water. My heart skips a beat, then another, then a third. Everything happens too fast.

The last thing I see are the bubbles of my breath waltzing up to the surface, free, like I once was.

Everything goes black.