Faded Scars Trilogy

Chapter seven: Falling

Looking Back

            The new cell was similar to my old one with an iron door, barred window, cot, and stone walls, supposedly impenetrable.  A guard had taken a chain bolted to the wall and firmly attached it to my wrists, chaining me to the wall.  That might be a slight complication.  I tested the chain and found the small links to be stronger than I expected. 

            The chain was long, but not long enough to get out the door.  Nobody was watching.  I removed the sword necklace and placed it under the cot, where it would be difficult to find.  It was then I got an idea.  Could I use the sword to escape?  The wheels in my head began to turn faster and faster.  I drew the sword and tried to saw through the chains.  They were strong, but I felt they would give if I worked them in the right places.  The contact made a soft whining and I hoped nobody heard it.  Apparently no one did.  When I finished, the chains felt no further along, but I remained defiantly hopeful. 

            The next morning I awoke to the sound of wheels rolling down the silent hall.  It appeared to be a few hours past dawn.  I stood, alert, and peered out the door from the shadows.  A young man, almost still a boy, flanked by guards was pushing a cart.  I wondered what was inside and got my answer seconds later.  The man stopped at one of the cells and opened the door.  I watched, curious.  He pulled a small tray from the cart and placed it inside the door.  He was delivering food.  My stomach rumbled hungrily at the thought.  I sank back into the shadows and waited for my turn.  Soon enough, the cart stopped in front of my cell.  I watched silently as the man placed the food inside.  At first he didn’t see me.  He glanced upward and looked me straight in the eye.  I held his gaze.  He looked intimidated.  Was it me that scared him?  It would seem so.  I laughed at the thought.  Surely anyone with her hands chained to a wall couldn’t appear threatening, yet here it was.  The boy seemed unnerved by this and hastily left. 

            As he left, I grabbed the food greedily.  All on the tray was a half loaf of bread and a small jug of water.  Famished, I devoured the bread.  As I finished it though, I felt quite peculiar.  I felt suddenly tired even though moments ago I couldn’t have been more alert.  I sat against the wall, speculating upon this, and fell asleep. 

            When I awoke, the sun was setting on the horizon.  Alarmed, I jumped up.  There was quite obviously something wrong with the bread.  I thought on this and came to the obvious conclusion.  The bread was drugged.  How could I have been so foolish?   Warily, I took the water and looked it over.  Aside from being somewhat dirty, it didn’t seem all that different than any other water.  I hazarded a small sip.  When nothing happened, I took another sip and another.  Before I knew it, the pitcher was half-drained.  Looking around, I removed my sword and set to work at the shackles.  A few minutes later, I heard the cart making its way down the passage.  In a panic, I hid my sword again and crouched in a shadowed corner.  The person delivering food did not even look up at me as he hastily placed the food inside my cell. 

            I frowned at the bread.  Should I eat it and sleep or stay awake and starve?  What would Ellende do?  Ellende, my grief stole over me again, like rainclouds blotting out the sun.  My heart felt ready to disintegrate.  I was plagued by guilt, for being the reason Ellende had died that night, for failing the strength or foresight to kill myself that night.  Without another thought, I ate the bread and escaped from my nightmares into a dreamless sleep.

            The next few days were drug filled blurs, eating the bread, passing out, waking, and repeating the process, forgetting about the need to escape.  I escaped into my nightmares, savoring the pleasure of escaping reality.  But every time I awoke the guilt and grief stabbed at me fiercely and I longed for the drug induced sleep, the easy escape. 

            Over a few weeks, it was near impossible to track time since I slept nearly all day, the drug’s effects began to diminish as I grew immune.  In the beginning, I just slept for shorter amounts of time.  Then it stopped forcing me to sleep and just gradually lulled me into slumber. And then it just left me woozy and sedated, but awake, wanting to sleep.  And in that sleep, I was inundated with dreams, dreams of Ellende, reliving his life and death, striking me in the heart so that upon awaking I was shivering and fearful, wishing to curl into a ball and hide. 

            I was faced with a conundrum.  I could eat the bread and sleep, letting myself dream, or not eat it, and therefore avoid the dreams but have to face reality, and starve.  Or I could find a way to make the drug useless.  I tore open the bread and discovered the drug was a powder.  That could be a complication.  I tried to get the powder out of the bread by hand but readily gave up on it.  After multiple tries, I found an adequate solution.  I dipped a corner in the water I had which seemed to dissolve the powder.  Sure, I would have to eat soggy bread, but it was worth it.  Now I wouldn’t be distracted, saddened, but focused.

            I developed a routine in those next few days.  As my chains came closer to breaking, I began to think on how I would get out.  My options were either through the door or the window.  The door seemed the better option.  Night after night, I chipped at the chains and planned how I might escape out the door once my chains broke, studying the prison layout from outside the window.

            One night, as I worked underneath the bright moon, I noticed a small darkness.  A black rain cloud crossed the moon just for a moment.  More clouds followed after it until they blotted out the moon almost entirely.  I concealed my sword again, not wanting to work in the dark.  Playing with a sword in the dark probably wasn’t the brightest idea.  I hunched over in the corner, lost in thought.  Now that I wasn’t preoccupied by my escape, thoughts I tried to push away forced their way back.  I watched Ellende die again and again.  Each time ripped at my heart just as painfully as the day he fell to the sword.  He had saved my life and for what?  He had died to send me here, to prison.  Of course, not that he knew that.  How I hated myself!  I had to leave here.  In prison there is only grief, like a blanket coating the place, making everyone miserable.  I needed to escape the ghosts pursuing me.  Tears slipped down my cheeks, tears of both frustration and sadness.  At least the wolves were still with me, somewhere, probably.  This cheered me slightly.  Small raindrops flew through my window, sprinkling me.  I did not move but let them come.  They were like the sky’s tears to me.  I mingled my own with them.  I fell asleep, embraced by the rain.