Short Stories of Unraveled Lives

Judgement

A familiar, agonizing scream out in the distance. One that didn't faze me in the slightest. I was used to it; used to all the sounds, the screams, the terror, the crying, and whatever else you'd hear in a torture chamber. Aside from the actual tools themselves.

I couldn't fathom how long I've been stuck here. I'd been keeping track of days on my cell wall, but I stopped after a while. It was pointless. After fifteen deep scratches into a brick wall, I figured I wasn't going to get out anytime soon.

They treated us like slaves, and truthfully, we were. Everyone that was locked up in this dingy prison looked like any other ordinary person. Except we were singled out, thrown in the dirt and locked in a cell—away from an outside we would never see again. Or at least that was what they told us. I, for one, am determined to get out of this hellscape. But, I know that it's almost my turn.

They hold on to each prisoner for five days, and if they don't get what they want out of them, that person suddenly disappears. I have no doubt in my mind that they're dead. I don't think I would be able to handle the torture either like my cell neighbor. He was gone currently. It was his turn a few days ago and he never came back to his room. I could only guess those were his cries I was hearing.

I head to the cell door, hoping to get some sort of new sight this time, but it was the same as I remembered. The metal door was thick and dark gray, a small rectangle at the top with small bars in between to look in or out of the cell. Outside held a dark hallway.

I let out a sigh. There was no sign of new light outside this door, and I hate how much I don't know about this place. They gathered us all here just to torture us and try to get information; but what did they want to know? I ponder this for a moment. For the thousandth time.

Wait.

I didn't notice it before, but it was evident now. I listen for the air around me, the silence making me suddenly uneasy. Terrified. It was never good when it was quiet. That was always when the next victim was chosen.

I feel my heart skip a beat suddenly, my chest tightening as my legs shuffle back against the nearest wall.

It was my turn, wasn't it?

Before I knew it, I was breathing heavily, my hands pushing themselves into the sides of my head as I try and get some kind of grasp of the situation.

There was something I had to do.

I had so much confidence before. But that didn't matter now, did it? My legs were already sinking helplessly into the floor.

There had to be something.

I could feel my hands shoving further into my disheveled hair, grabbing the roots to frantically try and push through the pain that was ready to outburst.

Something. Something. Something.

My vision isn't even cooperating. I can feel myself blurring and my body becoming numb to its own nerves. I was becoming a ragdoll to the world. A panicking, incapacitated, shell of a woman.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

What am I saying? Where am I? Is my mouth moving? What is happening to me? Why can't I do anything?

I look up to see my door moving, across the room from me.

I don't want visitors. Go away. Leave me alone.

I think I say these things out loud, but from the lack of voice, I don't think I do. Instead, I watch two figures approach me, a larger body grabbing me by my shoulders and lifting me up as if I were a paperweight.