Purgatory

Darkness

Alone and cold, on the ground you lie in darkness. Refusing to move, you lay there silently praying for the sweet release of death. However, you know that you can't even rely on something as ancient and fundamental as death to be there for you, to save you, or to ease the suffering. Just like the little warmth you have managed to retain, hope oozes out of your pores spilling over your skin where it evaporates, comes in contact with the frigid air, and condenses over you like a cloud of steam rising from your body. At this point, hope is a concept that is lost on you. If anything, this four letter word has become an insult. You have learned that hope is simply a toy that the universe has used to make a mockery of you. Like a little boy carrying a plastic sword, you held onto hope believing that with it you could conquer the world, while the gods simply laughed at your naiveté.

As you lie there, the darkness seems to be closing in. The pain from your body intensifies for a second and you look at your hands. Your fingers are frozen, black, and unmoving. You remember your feet, or what's left of them; due to the cold, pieces of your foot have frozen and broken off. The parts that remain are iced, raw, and bloody from all the walking, the chasing—the hoping. How pointless it all was. The only thing hope ever did was make a situation more futile. You pull your knees up to your chest and shiver. At least the cold numbs the pain. As if in response to your thought, you watch as the flesh from one of fingers falls off. This is where hope has landed you.

Tears gather in your eyes as you remember your stupidity. You think about all the times you were convinced that you had found sanctuary. You begin to recall the feeling of euphoria being snatched away from you due to your own inadequacies. Regardless of how great it was, it never lasted. Every light was a lie.

With a few streaks running down your face, you notice that the darkness seems to have gotten heavier. As if it were a physical thing, it weighs down on you, and it becomes difficult to breathe. You are suddenly aware of the very rising and falling of your chest, for every inhale is a task proving to be more and more difficult to perform. You soon have to resort to quick gasps for air; the darkness is giving you no other option than hyperventilation.

As if the pressure has broken some internal dam, rivers of tears pour down your face. Pressing into you even harder, the darkness seems to be alive with its sole purpose being to crush you. Tendrils of the darkness pass over your wet face, reaching and searching, until it finally finds your mouth and forces its way into your throat. Instinctively, your hands reach for your neck, where your remaining fingers desperately claw at your throat to create a new airway. Your body begins to convulse; your chest heaves in and out as you strain to pull in oxygen. Instead, as if it were some form of liquid, you suck the darkness in further, where it fills your lungs.

It doesn't let up, but instead continues to press on. You can hear your ribs cracking under the pressure, being pushed into the soft tissue of your lungs and heart. As you are flattened, what little you have left comes oozing out of you; warmth and love, sorrow and pain. All of it is expelled from your being, leaving you empty.

The pressure lets up. Not that it matters. There is nothing left of you other than flesh and bones. You see nothing; you feel nothing. You lay there broken and empty, composed of nothing. You are an empty sac. You are void. There is no worse feeling than this. Worthless. Purposeless. Emotionless. Broken. Empty. Void.

However, you are mistaken. There is something in you, and you are beginning to feel it. You feel it in the pit of your stomach, moving and swirling. It begins to fill you up. It begins to stretch you out. You stand up, dust yourself off, and begin to walk again.

This thing that you are filled with it is not hate or sorrow nor fear or pain.

It is not hope.

It is Darkness.

This is how monsters are made.

This is Purgatory.