Mines

Chapter Thirteen

     I don't like talking about my depression, from what I know, it's been nonexistent since I came here... somewhat. I don't talk about it, I don't think about it, I don't feel it. Lafayette's tried to get me to open up to him, but every time someone brings up the topic I completely drop out of the conversation, and sometimes leave the room if I can. Herc's known for years of course, and picking up hints from him, he's surprised I made it this far. But how farther can I go? Laf and Herc were the only reason I stayed alive for as long as I did... and if their going to be cut out of my life forever, is there a reason to live anymore? I curl up on my side, pulling the blanket over my head to try and keep out the negative feelings from the day, but thoughts keep swarming my head.
     I'm not with Herc and Laf anymore.
     After my mother died things just got worse.
     Things will get worse.
     Things are getting worse as we speak.
     Why did I come out to my dad anyways?
     He doesn't love me.
     He didn't love me.
     Is he still alive?
     Who cares.
     Will I have to go to the mines tomorrow?
      Probably.
     Who cares?
     I care.
     Herc and Laf won't be there, and neither will Alex.
     Alex...
     With all these confusing thoughts in my head, I sit up, suddenly not wanting to sit down ever again, and pace back and forth across the room. Unfortunately, there's not enough space. I bet I could touch both of those walls while standing in the middle. Still, it's approaching dawn when I finally stop because someone else in solitaire tells me to stop or else. And I do because I don't want more trouble. I sink on the floor, head between my knees and my arms covering my head, warding off bad spirits that come nevertheless. I can't do this anymore, I can't pretend that everything is fine when nothing is. I can't be peppy, and happy, and smiling when I just... when I have no one to do it for. I'm better off dead. No one would miss me if I did die... No, that's not true. I tell myself. Laf would be devastated and so would Herc. I don't know about Alex... he did hug me when I came back from my cell... and what did he say to me? Only a few hours ago? A few hours ago... it feels like it's been weeks when the words that Alex said come back to me. "I don't like the thought of you dying." Or... something like that. And my father... I don't like to think about my dad, it brings back bad memories. If he
doesn't think I'm dead already, he'll be happy, maybe rejoice about my death even. If a slave dies in the mines, their older relatives that haven't been captured, or are to old to work, will be told the news during the meeting in the city circle, presented by a British solider. How many times I've been in that same city circle, clutching my mother's hand as she wept for whoever was so unfortunate to die in a wretched place, and for me, because when you're male and you turn eighteen in that small town I grew up in, you're sent there weather you want to or not. The females are usually spared to continue working in the town, mainly to reproduce new slaves, but sometimes one will find her way being the nurse's apprentice or some shit like that. After mom died, I went there with Herc's family, since my father couldn't be bothered with showing up even though it was mandatory. I used to count the lashing he had on his back from punishment for disobeying the Captain's orders. And I suddenly have an idea of how to get out of here.

     I have to stay focused. I can slip away, I can't zone out. I have a plan, and no matter how unbearable the pain might be now, I have to pull through. But it's difficult, so, so, difficult when I'm forced to pass by my old quarters. I don't look to my left, but keep my eyes trained on the right so I won't have to look at the remorse in Laf, Herc, and possibly Alex's eyes. My nervous habit of pulling on a loose strand of hair seems peculiarly annoying at the moment, since Hercules and Lafayette know everything about me, so they know when I'm worried, like now. I seem to automatically do everything, without consciousness, so it doesn't fully surprise me when I find myself hacking away at some unyielding stone. I hear the clang of stone on stone from all sides, and I'm starting to get a headache from the noise but this isn't a surprise, since I had zero sleep last night, a headache is to be expected. My fatigued body causes my limbs to grow numb and tired which leads to me losing my grip on the pickaxe handle, which slides with clang onto the floor. Heads turn to inspect the noise, and I do nothing about it. This is what I wanted, after all. A solider comes over and grabs me roughly by the collar of my shirt, leading me to the rusty elevator without saying anything, because he knows what I should expect, and I do. I expect to get whipped. Since the rebels have been captured, the cells are full and the death row on Friday will be full. But punishment still has to happen somehow, so we have whippings. But rarely, because barely anyone misbehaves and those who do, die. The whippings take place where the unfortunate five are killed, it's public of course, but held on Thursday instead of Friday, which so conveniently happens to be today. Sometimes, someone is killed during the whipping, and then there are whispers if that was meant to happen. My death, would be no different. Because I'm the guy who got a gun pointed at his head, who snuck out and was sentenced to death but survived that. The one who has a crescent shape on his wrist. Yeah, my death wouldn't come as a surprise. Not to anyone, even my friends.