Deck of Cards

Day 9- Hannah

Eight of spades- chained up all day

Hannah's POV

Insomnia had swept me up and spat me out as a tired sack of bones on the floor of my cell. I hadn't slept in three days and I was feeling the effect it had taken on my body. My shoulders slumped and my eyes itched from the lack of closing them. I had to blink every few seconds to keep them open. I was not ready for whatever they had to throw at me. Whatever it was, I knew that my body wouldn't last; I couldn't even lift myself off the floor.

Despondently, I turned over the next card which was the eight of spades. They didn't even affect me anymore- the cards. They were just like a timetable which I lived by. It was when I turned over a new number that I felt a bit more anxious but I already knew what an eight meant. I was going to be chained up all day. I didn't need to be told by my guard but yet he still grumbled on and on about what I was doing. I was too tired to listen. Even if I wasn't, I still didn't listen- it wouldn't change the outcome.

He was dragging a dead weight when we went along the corridors and through rooms, the coldness was a familiar welcome. It chilled my bones but at least it made me feel something. We went into another cell but this time it was bigger than mine. It didn't really matter how big the cell was- it was still a cell. It was still a confined space. There were chains laying on the floor and dangling from higher up. It should have scared me but instead all I felt was nothingness. Like I was completely empty.

I almost didn't feel the clamps round my feet which kept me in place, then I was lifted up and attached to the higher chains. Jesus will rise again, I thought to myself. I was in his position, arms spread but I wasn't quite ready to die because unlike him I knew that I would only die once.

To say it hurt would be like saying that being stabbed was the same as a paper cut; it was unbearable and the thought of the countless hours made me want to cry. I knew that it wouldn't just be being chained up, I knew they would come with their weapons of torture, brandishing them high as they charged towards me.

The first one was a gag, placed in my mouth, it tasted like mould and it suffocated me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get used to it. Then a blindfold was wrapped around my head, however the darkness was oddly satisfying. I waited and waited but nothing else came, it was like they had given up. I think they were cleverer than I let myself believe they were; they knew that waiting and anticipating could do more damage than any whip or bat. They knew that it would break me.

It drove me insane, every second I expected to feel a sharp jab in the rib but it never came. They stepped up  the torment halfway through my time; they got somebody to breathe on me which made me shudder and cringe simultaneously. It was about halfway through when my left shoulder dislocated. It hurt like a burning flame but I couldn't do anything about it and I had to accept that. The pain made my shoulder numb and soon I grew accustomed to it, even enjoyed it.

At the end, I had grown used to the dull ache of my arms as they held me up. It was crazy to say that I had grown used to pain. Maybe I was crazy. I was just glad that it was over and I could go back to my cell and pretend like I wasn't there. It had been helpful, the experience, because now fatigue fell on me like a ton of bricks. I fell asleep the minute my head touched the stone floor and I was out like a light within three seconds. I didn't care if they did anything to me in my sleep, all I cared about was the intense darkness which hid away the evil that surrounded me. All I cared about was that sleep was so much better than reality. I could be free in my dreams.

I dreamt for the first time in forever, a strange concoction of images and noises which seemed to make a short film right in front of my eyes.

I was walking down a dark road, no cars passed me. Silence surrounded me like a cloud of smoke, intoxicating me and smothering me. I was wearing all white, like a bridal gown but it had splatters of red on it. Blood.

My hair was a wild mane and my eyes were glazed over. I looked insane. Like some character from a horror movie. I continued to walk down this endless dark road, never stopping to turn back and look. Never turning back to see the people behind me holding guns and weapons ready to strike. When I did turn around they fired, hitting me hard. I fell, they came over and carried me away.

Their hands swarmed over me, ripping my dress into shreds and leaving me naked, vulnerable and afraid.

It faded into darkness.

It symbolised my time in the game. I had let my guard down, they had attacked. It was my fault. I no longer blamed them, but the girl in the white dress. She shouldn't have turned around.