It had been - I don't know how long. Months. Maybe a year or two. Time seemed to pass by in a messed-up blur. I had been locked in some sort of cell with brick walls, no windows, and a dusty, deflated mattress for sleeping. Three times a day I was given a tray with some sort of dried fruit on it and half a glass of water - I guess Vera wanted to keep the both of us alive to prolong the living hell that was our imprisonment. Patrick was in the cell next to me, but there was no way of communication between us. The only way I knew he was there was that I saw him being thrown into his cell at the same time as me. That was the very last time I saw him.
I didn't realize how big of a threat to my life this was - that is, until when everything got to be too much for me. I pounded on my cell door. I screamed. I wanted to get out of this place, and I wanted to get out now. My temper tantrum had been going on for a while when the door was flung open. I remember Vera snapping her fingers, then a burning sensation that spread throughout my whole body. I screamed out in pain...
...and could've sworn I heard Patrick screaming before everything went black.
From that day on, I was physically tortured every time I made a peep. My cell door would fly open and I'd feel as if a million fire ants were eating me alive. Then I would pass out, only to wake up later, curled up in a ball on the floor, the feeling of recently dried tears on my cheeks.
After one particularly long day, I crumpled onto my I-don't-even-know-if-it-could-be-called-a-mattress - but not for long. I woke up to a loud crash, coming from the other side of the door.
Crash.
Crash.
CRASH.
I quickly jumped to my feet as the door came flying down. Light shone through into my cell and a person stood in the space where the door once was. He stepped toward me and I backed up, not recognizing this person.
He had extremely messy brown hair and his skin was streaked with dirt. His eyes looked tired and his clothes were faded. Blood was spattered across his clothes, on his face, and in his hair.
"Crystal-" he spoke with a gravelly voice. He stepped forward again, grabbed me by the shoulders, and met my eyes. "Crystal, it's me. We need to get out of here."
YOU ARE READING
And It All Comes Crashing Down✔️
ActionI was hoping I'd forget. But I remember everything. How I lost everything I loved, how I got to that dingy old warehouse where I'd stay for a long time, how the world was plunged into darkness and despair. My name is Crystal Lamont, and I survived...
