Silence

Silence Part 1

I'm pretty sure I was dead before I ever lived. I was raised in chains, never to see the sun. I am nothing more than a ghost crawling through these halls of hell. I cannot remember a time that I could speak without permission. Or a time when my body did not ache with every movement and breath.

The screams never seem to stop. My ears ring with the others cries for mercy. I have long since stopped listening. No good has ever come from feeling. I did once, but that was a mistake I will not make again.

I hurry down the narrow corridor barely stopping for a moment at each cell to ladle out a scoop for the unfortunates. That's what HE calls them. HE says that they are unfortunate and have nowhere to go, so they might as well make themselves useful to society in any way they can. I'm just glad it's not me who has to be useful in that way.

I can barely see as I move down the line, pouring their bowels of water by more instinct than sight. There never seems to be enough lamp oil to fill each lamp and so there is always several feet of near darkness in the lower parts of the prison.

I feel a tug on my pant leg and look down to see through the gloom a hand grasping my leg. My stomach rolls as I stare at its gray misshaped hand pitifully tugging away. The skin peeled away to reveal muscles and tendons. Strips of flesh that flap around with every movement revealing snatches of bone.

"Please, help me! I haven't done anything wrong, I have a family who needs me.....please", it croaks out in a harsh whisper.

It looks up at me through bloodshot eyes wide with desperation and without a thought I kick out, slamming its hand against the bars. I ignore its whimpers as I walk on and continue to methodically continue down the line of cells. An endless line of screams, pleas, and cries for help that will never come.

Why do they think I can help them? I cannot even help myself. I move down the line in a hurry, moving as fast as I can to stay warm.

There used to be someone else who helped but he tried to escape. His name was Jacob and what a fool he was. Even if he had managed to escape he would have just been captured and put into one of the cells himself.

Then I would have been punished too, punished for letting him and punished to keep me from trying the same. I couldn't take that risk. HE says I'm on my last leg, that if I disobey Him again I will be put on the feeding rack. I don't want that. It's almost as bad as some of the experiments.

By the time I reach the end of the line I'm feeling nauseous. While it doesn't bother me to see the unfortunates or hear their pleas, the smell is one that clings even long after you are gone. The combined smell of rotted flesh, urine, and excrement alone has brought unfortunates to their knees. HE says that's why we're here in the dark dampness. The flesh rots slower in the cold and it keeps down the smell. If we were anywhere else it would be several times worse.

I have never truly been warm before, even when standing against the fire it is never enough to truly chase away the chill. I doubt if I would like it anyways, if the stinging pain that being near the fire brings to my fingers is anything to judge by.

To get away from the smell sooner I turn right and rush down the empty hall as fast as my bad leg allows before ascending the stairs to the next level. As I hurry some water splashes out of the bucket I still carry and splashes onto my leg and onto my bare foot. My limp becomes more pronounced as I hurry due to losing the feeling in my right leg again, a consequence of taking food without permission.

I was still very small at the time, not even able to see over the table without a stool. I did not realize the consequences of taking just a couple bites off HIS plate before bringing it to Him. I guess I didn't think that HE would notice. HE did though, and I will never do it again.