Broken People

Untitled Part 5

 I can't escape the darkness of my cell even in my dreams. The darkness invades the walls of my mind and swallows it whole, submerging my unconscious in an ocean of emptiness. Everywhere I turn in my head I feel as if I am being dragged deeper and deeper into this mysterious abyss. The forces around me are pulling me in an infinite number of different directions as my skin feels like it is peeling off of my limp body.

I begin to fall.

As I fall, I can hear screams. I can hear the screams of what sounds like a million lost souls, all imprisoned and scared. Their cries are deafening as I claw at my ears trying to mute the violent sound.

I stop falling.

It feels like I am on the ground, but it is still so dark. The silence is exponentially more violent and unsettling than the screams, which have seemed to cease. I call out, in hopes of a soft response, but I can't even hear my own voice. It is as if I have gone mute. The black that I stand on liquefies and plunge into a cold, swirling abyss.

I begin to sink

I grasp at my neck and try to stop from inhaling as I fall deeper and deeper into the darkness. I feel myself getting jerked violently in every which direction until I can no longer hold my breath and I inhale, but when I do, it feels of needles.

I try to force myself awake, I know I am dreaming, but the dream wants me to stay. The dream is as lonely as it feels. It needs a guest. I begin to surge up through the dark water and surface.

The world is bright once again. It is excruciatingly bright. The screams start again. With my eyes closed, and ears covered, I float in agony. I want to die. I wish to die.

I wake up gasping and violently sweating. There is once again no distinction between eyes open and eyes closed and I begin to hyperventilate. I frantically feel the area around me trying to grab the sheets as my breathing gets shorter and my heart beats faster. I brace myself on the wall next to my bed and push myself to my knees. The darkness is so severe.

I guide my shaking legs over the edge of the end of my bed and when I attempt a stand I crumble to the floor. I am shaking violently. Everything feels so wrong. I begin to slide myself across the floor with one hand on the wall, trying to guide my way to the door of my cell. I need help. I need out of the darkness.

I try to focus on the texture of the wall to distract myself from the panic. My heart will not stop thumping against the walls of my chest. It, too, is trying to escape its chamber. I focus on the beating of my heart. I focus on the texture of the wall. Every raised grain from the wall glosses across my fingertips as I make it to the corner of the room and turn my direction.

I crawl with the last traces of energy I can muster towards the door in an attempt to escape. I must continue to focus on the texture of the wall. The stone is cold and it is damp. The stone is hard. I try to even my breathing. My mind races. I finally feel the dip from the wall to the door. The texture changes to a smooth, concrete door. I force myself to my knees and try to ignore the shaking. I paw my way up the door searching for the knob. My fingers are outstretched as I slowly start to run out of room on the door.

I have explored every inch in reach and come to the realization there is no doorknob. Even if there were to be knob, it would be locked. I collapse into a pile of self-loathing bones and flesh. My breathing begins to shorten again and my heart races faster. The darkness is so severe.

And then, as if a prayer was heard, the lamp by my bed clicks on. The room is flooded with the artificial light that is dampened by a thin shade. I take a few deep breaths and try to collect myself. I can finally see again. The shaking begins to subside as I crawl my way back to the bed and hoist myself up. I sit on the edge of the bed with my head buried in my hands as I try to evaluate how I got myself into this situation.