My first memory was waking up in this place. A bright light hung from the ceiling above me, a few moths fluttering aimlessly around it. Stupid creatures, you are only pushing yourselves towards an untimely death. The hard cement ground was cold under my back, and the air was frozen still. Not a sound echoed through the frosty air. Everything was eerily still and silent. That was three years ago.
During the first three years, I had nothing. I never saw a single human, never heard a single voice. I had no name, no identity. Nothing to tell me whether I was alive or dead. Insanity seemed inevitable at the time, and it would have been, if I hadn't tried to speak. But I did. I opened my mouth, and screamed, but no sound came out. They had taken my voice.
During those years, I dreamed of nothing but revenge. My soul hungered for it. Throughout those three years, my need for revenge sustained me.
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Number 4A72
General FictionMy first memory was waking up in this place. A bright light hung from the ceiling above me, a few moths fluttering aimlessly around it. Stupid creatures, you are only pushing yourselves towards an untimely death.
