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HOW MUCH TIME has passed? Unable to see the sun rise or set, days and nights were a blur to me. No one inside these walls knew if it was day or night. And frankly, the days that passed should be the least of our worries. Since I had been tossed in here I hadn't seen a single soul besides the plate that magically slid under the door now and again.
It was never consistent though, it could be a few hours before food was delivered again or it could seem like days. What they gave us wasn't much, just a few scraps from whatever it was they hunted that day. We were practically starving to death. That is why I was confused. I heard the steps approaching and knew that it was feeding time. The hand slid the plate underneath the door and I was shocked.
It was a meal. Not just leftovers, like a full meal. Cooked animal meat and bright orange carrots were laid out in front of me. I couldn't help but think there had been a mix-up. "Excuse me," I said. My voice was weak and groggy. "Did you mean to give me this?" I asked. Not waiting another second before taking a big chuck out of the carrot.
Screw if this was some sort of mix-up. This was the first time I had eaten this good since the prison and I wasn't about to send it back. There was no response, and frankly, I didn't care. All I was focused on at that moment was stuffing my face. This happened again and again. Over and over. I tried to communicate with this strange directly, but he would never respond.
Some days I would just stare blankly out the barred window, hoping to catch a glimpse of this person, but he would never appear when I was watching. This person did their usual day's work and slid the plate under the door with a thud. "Who are you?" I asked. Knowing this person must have been someone from the prison. Why would they be doing this for me if they weren't?
This time was strange. The person didn't respond, but also they didn't move away from the door. I stood from my spot in the corner of the room, making my way slowly toward the door. I allowed them to walk away like I did every day, mainly out of fear that they would stop bringing me good food if I knew who they were. Did I want to know who it was?
Maybe it was Carol or Rick. Whoever it was they had my deep thanks, I was in their debt. For all, I knew they were the ones that saved my life. The tiny rations they gave out were hardly enough to live off of. Maybe they were the reason that no one has come and ripped my fingernails out or tied me to a chair.
Maybe there was my beacon of hope in this darkened hell hole. This strange person was my angel. What an idiot. It took me a second to decide, whether I wanted to know who this person was or not. Would my knowledge put them at risk? Was I willing to take that chance and peek out? What if someone found out one of the guards was sneaking me extra food?
Would they beat the living shit out of me until I told them who did it? There was nothing these stone-cold killers wouldn't do. And I've seen the worst of it firsthand back at Woodbury. I made up my mind as I lowered myself to the floor. I didn't want to know. Not only would my life be at risk but so would theirs.
If I didn't know I couldn't tell, no matter how much they tortured me. Whoever it was had my gratitude. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I ratted out the person who was so kind to me. "I won't do it," I said, my eyes locking on the ground. The angel's feet still cast a grey shadow into my cell.
Why was today any different than all the others? The angel would have never let me see them before. Did they know something that I didn't? So many unanswered questions that had no true answer. If the stranger wouldn't talk then there was no point wasting my breath.
They must have gotten the message. Their feet shuffled away from the door and they continued on their merry way. I was left wondering if I had made the right choice. Questions built up that could have been answered if I had just seen the angel's face. Everything would be clear as crystal if only I had looked.
But I had made my choice and there was no going back now. No good would come from regretting the past, all I could do was live with my choice and hope to move past it. I glanced down at my plate and saw there was even more food than they typically gave me. I stuffed my cheeks full before taking a sip of the small dish of water.
Once I had cleared my plate I sat back in the shadows like I did every day and scraped away at the wall with a small piece of wood. It was the only thing I could do to make this experience more enjoyable and not die of boredom or lose my sanity. So that's what I did say in and day out. Chipped away at the painted walls.
I rotted away in that cell and yet this was a good thing. However long I had been in here was enough time for me to heal. I was able to get plenty of rest and food to sustain myself. Getting caught like this may not have been such an awful thing. Out of nowhere the door to my cell swung open and in walked three men.
"Evie." The eyepatch man said in a stern voice. "You have been found guilty of murder and are sentenced to hang via public execution." His words puzzled me. I wasn't a murderer, and if this was the case and the rules stated that I must be put to death for my crimes, what about him?
He's killed more people than I can count on both hands. This "civilized" society they have here is just going to turn a blind eye to their leader's acts of violence. "That's not fair," I say. "I didn't kill anyone." I snapped at him. His uncaring eye stared at me with such force that I could have sworn I was being crushed beneath his gaze.
"Up." He commanded like I was some sort of street dog. The two other men by his side grabbed onto my arms and forced me to stand. I struggled to get away, kicking repeatedly, and swinging my arms in different directions, but it was no use I wasn't able to break free. They practically dragged me like a dead person out of the cell that I just refused to leave.
With my repetitive wiggling, it was hard for them to keep a grip on me. Once I had freed one arm the guy hurried and attempted to grab it. Knowing that I didn't have long, I did the only thing I could do which was to punch the other man who still had a grip on my arm. I socked him right between the eye.
He toppled over in pain, clutching his hands over his bleeding nose. When I turned my attention back to the door the governor was already gone. My guess was he went to give an opening speech before I was sentenced. This couldn't happen, I can't die, not like this. The man who I had previously been freed from got ahold of my arms and pinned them behind my back.
He pushed me hard against the wall. I winced slightly at the aching pain that coursed through my body. He ordered the other guy to get up but his hands were covered in his crimson blood and he stayed on the ground. "Hey, you mind helping a friend out?" Who was he talking to? The governor left and the other guy was still on the flood.
Unable to see who it was he was speaking with since my face was smashed up against the wall. No, two guys were enough to deal with, I doubt I could fend off a third. For my only chance of breaking free I had no other option but to fight. My leg swung backward and kicked him in the groin. His grip on me lessened and I was able to wiggle my way out.
I dashed over to where the stick sat, the one I used to remove the paint from the walls and used as a weapon. The guy who I had kicked was back on his feet rather quickly. I stood in a passive position as he charged at me, my hands behind my back. He grew closer and closer until finally, I found my chance.
I lodged the six inch wooden board straight into his eye socket. He toppled over, wailing out for someone to help him. That's when I remember there were three. I pulled the stick from his eye and turned to the door. Hoping he would give me a better show than these sad saps.
"Miss me, sweetheart?" My body froze when I saw the man standing in the doorway. This was the first time since Woodbury that I felt this type of joy. It was him, of course it was him. He stood there with his smug expression on his face and crossbow in hand. He had come back for me.
