He asks, ''Why are you refusing to look at me?''
A nervous laugh escapes me, ''You, ah, have a fine face.'' No, no, no. Why the Hell did I say that?
He fully laughs; so genuine and rich it makes me smile a little, ''Fine face? That's all I get?''
I...
Opening my eyes, I see nothing but darkness. Darkness so genuine and endless, I doubt for a moment if my eyes are ajar, or was it just another one of my episodes. I've been here for years, maybe decades. Maybe even days, but I've just lost count of time. Looking around, I see faint souls flaunting from a distance. An infinite distance, that is, for I tried for a long time to reach its end, but there's always...more. I met many damned here, although none of them were fun–they're just dull and void, even more hopeless. They're all here for committing treason, it seems. I guess I'm no exception.
I've forgotten why I'm here, anyway, so I believe I did something similar to the other prisoners, right?
Who knows? I don't even remember my own name. Did I even have one? Do I have people to lose me while I'm here, away from everything?
These questions haunt me day and night. Although, I guess it's always night here.
Nevertheless, there is something faint I remember, something I keep clutching to.
It's a set of eyes. Unlike everything here, they're very, very scarlet.
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