Outside the Window

Still like the dead, can't see a thing.  Can't even think.  Blood rushing in my veins, pounding in my head, waiting to explode.  There's ringing through the silence.  Ringing in my ear, ringing that won't stop.  Ringing forever.  I clutch my head between my knees, holding tightly until I grow tired and can't hold any longer.  I lay back, panting, my breath stirring the dust in the nearly black air of the quiet room I'm being held in.

Through the corner of my eyes, I glance out the tiny little hole carved in the ever-expanding stone I'm caged in.  Outside the tiny window, I can see life, breathe life, almost taste life.  But not in here.  In here I'm trapped.  Cobwebs and dust.  That's all I have.  I'm surrounded by the large metal bars cold, cold stone, cobwebs and dust.

I spend my nights and days pacing, pacing to pass the time.  I sometimes claw at the tiny window, pleading for it to grow larger, large enough that I could maybe one day be free.  I don't get much sleep, I can't seem to relax with the constant drip-drop of a broken pipe that lay overhead in my cage.  I'm stuck in solitude, alone with my thoughts.  The highlights of my day are when an ant or something similar happens to wander into my dark pit of death.  I like the feeling of playing God, trapping him in a little room made of small stones, just like what they've done to me.  It's all fun and games until he dies.  His death reminds me of my inevitable future.

It won't be long.  Sometimes, I just wish it could happen now.  I hit my head upon the stone walls that surround me, I hit it until it bleeds, praying before each hit that it'll be enough, but I can't bring myself to continue as I look out the tiny window.

The tiny window casts a gentle burst of light into this darkness.  The light that fills me with the hope that I will one day be free.  Free enough to smell the fresh air, to run and jump so high that I touch the clouds.  Clouds.  What are clouds? I remember them from when I was young, big white blobs in the sky.  I heard them in storybooks, magical objects.  I only have a faint memory now.  I can't see them from my tiny window, but what I can see is the sun.  Only for a few minutes.  When I can see the sun peeking out behind the horizon, I know that it's almost time for them to come to my cage and bring my daily meal.

Morning.  The same every day.  A piece of bread with a small glass of water.  Sit in the corner, put the food down, close the door.  2 minutes, then "times up."  Whatever I don't eat, I finish tomorrow.  Tomorrow.  Every day, just waiting until tomorrow and those short 2 minutes of  human interaction.  Ten years of just waiting for tomorrow.  No more.  Not today.

No more darkness, no more 2 minutes, no more cobwebs and dust.  10 years of staring out of my tiny window, praying for freedom but taking no action.  This is the day I'll be free.  I don't yet know how, but what I do know is that there will be a way.

Any minute now, they'll come.  Them, in their long black clothes, their black face masks.  All I've ever seen is their eyes.  Dark.  Angry.  Hateful as they yell "Hands on head.  In the corner, now." It's not intimidating anymore.  I see past it now.  Today's the day I won't sit down for them.

Pondering my plan of attack makes the time go by quickly, and the volume of their footsteps increasing causes the hair on the back of my neck rise.

Is this right?

Yes.  Yes it is.

Taps grow to booms.  I'm sweating for the first time since I got here.  I'm feeling alive.  Alive.  This is the true start of my life.

"You know the drill.  Hands on head, in the corner."  The routine call.  I go to my corner and kneel down, no different than normal.  Outside, I'm still the 5 year old wondering why, why me?  Inside, a fire is growing from the ashes, growing brighter and brighter as the shadowy figures of the men who stole my life draw nearer and nearer.

Click.  Key in door.  Muscles tense.  Almost time.

Five.  The door unlatches, slowly screeches open.  Go.

Four.  Now I'm running, screaming.  It's happening.  Three seconds until freedom, until life.

Three.  And suddenly they're moving faster than ever. Adrenaline rush, and I see it. Hear it.

Two.  Click-click.  Boom.  Clink.  Darkness.  Nothing.  This is what I wanted anyway, right?  Right.

One.