Odysseys of Ohia

Ohia

I will never see the sun again in this life, and I've long accepted that. Still, three thousand and eleven days of endless grey, rancid seepage, stale bread, bitter potato, and the occasional tapping of footsteps. The boredom; the nothing. But I suppose I ought to just be glad my daily regime didn't comprise of scalpels and examinations. 

I sigh, sliding my back down the wall until I came to a seated position on the cold floor. I tear my eyes away from the glowing grey box and drop my face into my hands. I must have dozen off because I am woken by the sound of my next meal. 

The shutter on my door rattles and clanks as it is unlocked from the outside. A rectangular hole smaller than my forearm emerges and I already have my eyes shielded with my hand when the light pours in. 

"Three thousand and twelve," I whisper. 

I wait for the clank of my meal tray making contact with the ground and for the light to disappear as it quickly as it came, returning me to the darkness. But the sound doesn't come, and the light doesn't fade. 

I dare to look at the door, my retinas burning as I try to see through the blinding light. I push through the tears that come, sensitive after so many of years of captivity. 

"Hello?" I call out to the light, almost startling myself by the sound of my own voice. 

I shuffle a little closer, leaning on my knees. 

"He-" I begin again, when a booming crash sounds and I am flooded with an ocean of light. I am sent toppling backwards, attempting to shield both my eyes and ears as I collide with the wall. It takes me a moment to recover from the shock, and my shoulder throbs where it hit with the wall.

I force my eyes open as I clamber to my feet, using the wall to guide me. I stare into the doorway, and though my vision is greatly impaired, I distinctly make out the silhouette of a figure. 

But not just any figure.  

I shucked in a breath.  "Was my warning not clear?" 

 "Grudges were always your strong suit," the figure said as she stepped into the room. I could see her clearly now. Dressed in her black jumpsuit and her hooded cape made from the feathers of her deceased murder, she appeared almost exactly as I remember her. 

"You've aged," I smirk. 

The Crow travels her eyes up my body and reciprocates my expression. "You're one to talk."

I peer down at myself, and my limbs now visible in the light, and the frayed fabric remaining, exposing half my chest and entire abdomen to the musty air.  

Without thinking, I roll my fingers into a fist and throw it at the Crow. She blocks it with her arm and uses her other hand to send a blow to my stomach.

I gasp and  hunch over in pain, fighting to retrieve the air that escaped me. It's been a while.

As I catch my breath, the Crow uses it as an opportunity to explain. "It's gotten worse," she says, her voice stern. "The forest needs you."

"I told you," I groaned, still holding my stomach. 

The Crow sighs and steps outside the remnants of the door. "This is your last and only chance." 

I stand up straight and glare at her. She had betrayed me. 

"We were sisters."

"You had gone mad."

I peer around the grey cell, my years here a complete stupor, and wondered where the guards were.

I turn back to the Crow and consider throwing another punch and fleeing but knew that combat was always her strong suit and we were too far from the surface for my abilities to be any good.