"You don't seem surprised to be here."
I ignored the voice in the corner of the dark room with its pitch black walls, floor, and ceiling. Even the barred window, where just the smallest sliver of sunlight shined through, highlighting the torrent of dust floating in the air, was a dark onyx.
"Most panic when they first arrive," the man continued. "They pant and swear and scream and run around looking for a door they'll never find."
Still ignoring the man's voice, I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my chin upon them, staring forward into the darkness.
"And when they can't find a door, they go for the window. They scream for help until their throats are raw, they pull at the bars thinking they're strong enough to break them-they plead, cry, scramble, rationalize, and eventually, after days or sometimes weeks, they do what you're doing right now. They curl into a ball and stare blankly."
When the man received no response, he continued once more.
"But you don't seem to be dissociating like those others. You seem to be...unbothered almost. Like you've been here before." Footsteps echoed in the darkness. "But that's impossible. I was the first, and therefore, I've seen every sorry soul that's passed through here. You are not a repeat guest." The footsteps stopped. "So why don't you care, I wonder?"
A sneeze tried to crawl its way up to my nose, but I bit my tongue until the taste of copper coated my tongue, suppressing it.
"I've seen grown men shove their nose to the ground and pray for the first time in their lives to escape. And when that didn't work, they cursed the very God they asked for help. And when that doesn't work, do you know who they call for? Do you know the last word that passed their lips?" Movement shifted in the darkness, and a presence came close to me, hot breath brushing against the back of my neck. "It's 'momma."
A moment of pause before the presence retreated.
"There are variations, of course. 'Where is my momma?' 'I want to see my momma.' 'I miss my momma.' 'Help me, momma.' 'Save me, momma'."
Am amused hum followed the voice, and it lingered for much longer than any of his previous words, lasting in the air like a thick smog.
"Of course, you aren't required to say it. You could break the cycle, be the first to say something else. 'dad'; 'brother'; 'sister'; 'lover'. Any variation of those. Hell, you could even say a name. That would be a nice word to speak, wouldn't it? A name? Names have such power, you know."
The room didn't seem so cold minutes ago, and a chill overtook my body, sending tremors through every muscle.
"You look tired. Here, take this."
I awaited a hand to emerge from the darkness, but instead I only felt something drop into my hand. I furrowed my brow, staring down at my now open palm. I didn't remember opening it in the first place, but there, staring back at me, was a white tablet, no larger than a fingernail.
When I closed my hand and wrapped my arms back around my knees, a huff broke the otherwise silent atmosphere of the room.
"I won't force you to take the pill. I won't even ask you... but you will take it. You might not at first, but eventually you'll take that pill. You know why? Because you have to. You must. It's the only way to progress. Otherwise, it will be just you and me, stuck in this room forever. I'll keep you company at first, talking your ear off about whatever I can-but even I can get bored of talking. And so we'll be trapped in the silence, for as long as you desire. Maybe hours, maybe days. But you will, at some point, put that pill in your mouth, and swallow it. Unless you desire to remain at this point for the rest of... well, I won't spoil the surprise."
