Mind Reconstructive

Not Again

Erril shifts her weight from one foot to the other nervously. She seems anxious whenever  I'm around her (which has only been three times.) She's remarkably perceptive. Only a few people can tell when something in their mind is present which shouldn't be, and Erril happens to be one of those people.  No one has ever figured out exactly what is wrong when I'm around, but Erril seems dangerously close to putting two and two together. The way she thinks unnerves me nearly as much as I believe I unnerve her.

As I watch Andrea perform a simple division problem, I debate whether I should enter Erril's subconscious  again. It seems a bit dangerous at this point. Not for me, I can escape whenever I like, Erril's safety is my main concern. Last time I attempted, she seemed extremely perturbed. She feels everything more acutely than the average person I have read. Should I try? Is it safe for her? But can I really just leave it be? She seems so...chaotic almost. Like her mind and spirit fight one another and are killing her in the process. Should I really just let it go, allow her to suffer without at least attempting to help her?

She reminds me so much of Tyler.

I decide suddenly that I cannot simply leave it alone. My mind won't allow it. So I enter...

It's dark. Again.  I blink hard, attempting to force my eyes to adjust to the smothering darkness that surrounds me. Objects around me begin to come into focus, and I assume I sit in an mideval prison cell. The dank walls, as well as the shackles encasing my wrists and feet help me form this theory. It is still nearly pitch black, but I sense another being somewhere close by.

Suddenly, a moan emerges from the claustrophobic cell. A tired, beaten, ancient groan, a groan which seems to tell a story of life-long entrapment. 

Rubbing my eyes, I try desperately to make my eyes adjust better, and begin crawling forward towards the moan.

And a person comes into view. A hunched figure, beaten and miserable, clothed in rags, sitting against the damp stone wall.

"H-hello?" I murmur cautiously. The figure gasps, wrenching it's head up from where it lay in it's lap.

It's an elderly woman. The site of her is enough to bring me to tears, Her broken figure and bruised, wrinkled face. The look of absolute turmoil that adorns her features is heart breaking.

"Who are you?" She asks, cautiously but not accusingly.

"A friend. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. What are you doing here?"

She chuckles sadly, "I was thrown here. Many, many years ago. So so many years spent here. No light, no escape."

"Why were you put here? What crime did you commit?"

"I was taken when the kingdom was overtaken, of course. How are you oblivious to such facts?" She says, as though it were obvious.

Kingdom? I suppose that would explain the old architecture style.

"I have just...come here I suppose... By whom was the kingdom taken over?" I ask, trying to appear as though I belong in this mind.

"They revolted. Some of us revolted. They grew to strong. The subconscious was not strong enough  to withhold them, so it succumbed to them. And I was thrown here. There are others, but we were separated so we could not grow strong. I have tried to escape. I have, but only to be over come, and beaten down once more."

"What is you're name?" I inquire.

She looks at me hard. "You don't belong here, do you? Who are you?"

"I'm a friend. I am here to help the subconscious. I can. I'll try to get you out.  I will." I tell her, deciding the truth would be the best route.