Revolution

Chapter 2: "The Cycle"

Daniel shot up from his cold, hard bed in his cell. He was panting heavily, sweating profusely. He looked down at his hands, trying to get them to cease shaking.

He ran them through his black, wavy hair. He realized this was the longest his hair had been in years. He was going to have to ask them to cut it when the day they allotted for such a thing came around again.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Another night, another nightmare. This particular one had been a memory from childhood.

Nothing new.

He huffed out a sigh and threw the blanket off. He turned, letting his bare feet hit the cold, concrete floor.

He dragged himself out of his so-called 'bed', which was really more of a cot than anything, and looked out from the tiny window to see tiny-specks of light peeking out from behind the clouds. Other than that, there wasn't much more to see. Lots of barbed wire. Lots of guards.

Nothing new.

He rubbed his face with his hands. He looked down at them. There's blood on these hands. He felt empty. Hollow. Broken. Alone. He shook his head sadly, he felt guilty.

Nothing new.

Why try to intimidate and scare everyone? Why act like a monster? Because you are one. There it was again. That voice, the one that always tells him what a worthless piece of trash he truly is. He's heard it in his head since he was a young child, it often came to him sounding like his father. It had convinced him all of his life how awful and sick he was, and he had always believed it. There was only one time he didn't believe, when he actually told the voice to shut it, and it indeed did. It was a wonderful feeling during a wonderful time of his life...But he won't think of that time now. He can't think of that now...It won't go anywhere good, it never has before.

Since then, he has never doubted that voice. It told the truth.

He knew why he tried to terrify everyone. It felt so good to feel that power over them. That control. He doesn't have it anywhere else, look at him! Confined in a jail, trapped behind bars, and barbed wire, and guards. Isolated from the real world, which is the place where there was someone out there that terrified him, the only person who could do any damage to him at all. From reality, and the fact that there was someone out there, outside of this cage, that knew the truth. That could read him like a book, and sense his every fear, just to torture him with it.

This cage was feeling safer and far more secure every moment.

Further than that, he felt even less control over his emotions that stirred so intensely every wakening moment. And even if he isn't conscious, he has nightmares. Fear, rage, disgust, guilt, shame, anxiety, anger, hatred, and so many more feelings surged through him at any given moment. It was like a storm raging inside of him at all times, where chaos ruled and reigned. One thing during his childhood that his wicked father always demanded was organization. Everything was to always be neat and tidy, everything scheduled, nothing out of place, nothing out of order. Nothing chaotic. Which was exactly what he felt. It made panic bubble to the surface of his mind, and his blood boil in anger and fear.

Yet, he still felt better than being out there, vulnerable and out in the open, where he could turn a corner and suddenly there he was. At least here he knew that turning a corner did not pose a risk to his father being on the other side.

But how could he deny the feeling of loneliness that plagued him daily? How could he refute the fact that he felt disgusted with himself every time he finished toying with one of the guards? It only made the voice come back stronger, and forced his shame to increase. Yet, the voice disturbed him endlessly until he did the very thing it would berate him for only shortly afterwards. It was a constant cycle, one he, no matter how hard he tried, could never break.