My Neighbors

2:Hello

You did this to get away from life, to feel empty, to be a matter to the world but not live with your thoughts anymore. Focus on the pain because it's a distraction, like the vital breath you take when smoking a cigarette or the feel of drinking alcohol to take the life away, to take everything away.

I keep telling myself this but why is it that I don't feel anything toward it? Why is it that I don't believe it? I know that life is still there no matter what, probably even after I die. The people in those masks come into my room and make it all the more difficult to find a distraction. All of their eyes are the same, some sad, some are just empty, gone. No soul left in some, that's what I want, but why is it that I still have these thoughts? All these people are gone, why can't I be taken too? Is it because that's what I want? We can never have the very thing we always urge for?

"Just let go." Someone murmurs, the very curse that was marked upon them. The guard walks in, taking it away, replenishing its soul at the same time another taking me away for listening to the words of this sinner. We are not allowed to speak, that is one of the main rules that keep us tied down to this chamber, this never ending dungeon I thought completely different of.

As they swing a punch after another, I get pushed back. My head starts to ache more than my face and stomach. They take out that tray. NO. That tray, why do I still feel. My emotions are the reason I have this traumatizing fear of that tray. I hear the drilling and start to gag, waiting for that exasperating pain.

Then I am left in this room once again left with nothing but thinking, happy that the pain took me away from these thoughts. The feeling of appreciation, knowing that they're helping me to take the emotions and feelings away, knowing that they are my friends, not my enemies.

I stare out of my window, my mother taking notice.

"Iviana. Why is it you like that pond so much, you know you can go outside right? It's right there just-"

"The ducks are there." I interrupt, "I don't want them to fly away."

I couldn't tell what her reaction was, I was mesmerized by the body of water that lays a few feet from my window.

"You know." She bends down, reaching my height, staring out the window as well. "Me and your father met at that very pond."

My mouth opens and I smile.

"He asked me my name and walked me home."

"Were you hurt?"

"No, he was just a very sweet gentleman."

I wonder if I would ever meet anyone there.

My eyes were wet again, my nose was runny. I was crying and my heart was racing. This won't stop, every time I sleep, I get the same dream over and over again. I know I miss them, why does my mind keep rerunning the same show. I've seen it a million times, just move on already, but of course, my brain always does the exact opposite.

I was sitting in my usual spot, watching the sun droop down and the moon following after it, like they were tied together on a string.

"Hey, this is my spot."

I didn't turn, just hear the voice and footsteps approach. After they stop, I turn, confirming that they were speaking to me. "I've been here for years buddy, find a new spot." I reply to the guy that looked back at me. He was my age, I could tell.

He smiles. Why did he smile at me? He sits next to me. "So, you watching the sun?"

I turn toward the sun, "Nope, I'm staring at the stars in the sky." I say sarcastically.

He points behind us, by that I felt there were stars appearing behind us, which made me smile too. "Me too." he says, while laying down on the table looking in the opposite direction as me.

I cough and hack on some strange liquid, waking up from my terrible dream. I'm choking, I fall to my knees, but someone grabs my throat again and throws me toward a wall, like a ball. I didn't bounce back, I just kind of slid and all I was able to think about was the pain on my back and the blood dripping from my mouth. I fall forward, not moving an inch, taking in all of the pain, absorbing it, using it. I could see it now. I felt nothing. As he grabs me again, he takes a rope, tying it around my throat and squeezing it to the point of no air 10 seconds...breathe, again. Breathe. Again.Breathe. A continuous pattern that I had no control over. The air that couldn't fit my throat.

All again to the point of passing out, then waking up again in my crawl space. Good, I didn't have any dreams that time, or at least any I would remember.

I could still feel the pain, my breathing became audible. I could hear the attempt at breathing, it sounded strained. A gasp after another, eventually I will get used to it and eventually won't be able to hear it anymore, like a clock ticking. I feel the holes on my legs they drilled. The cuts they placed and bandaged. At times, they send my neighbors to the nurse, somewhere I've never been to. They come back, shined and polished, ready to start the pattern over again. The look in their eyes are usually pure. They pass by others, looking at them, knowing that they had time to think, time to go over emotions, time to feel. When those who come back from the nurse pass by, they stare at us like we're trapped in prison, unwillingly, forgetting the very purpose of this experiment. Those are the ones I call the sinners, the ones who betray their comrades, go back on their word and want out, the ones that I now consider weak.