It’s dark. Quiet now.
I can hardly stand the silence. It only amplifies the sound of my thoughts. They’re like a million moths relentlessly throwing themselves at the porch light we used to sit under on warm summer nights. They used to seem so errantly peaceful in their pursuit for warmth. I’m beginning to understand their desire. Unfortunately, that light is out now.
The ground is cold. Unforgiving.
Somewhere I know I’m beginning to ache from sitting in the same spot for so long. My arms burn as they hold my knees tight to my chest. I would release them but for the bars around me. Intangible barriers of cold flesh I can only thank myself for erecting.
My foot slips and brushes against her cold skin. The sensation sends a jolt up my leg and I yank it back in, pushing myself against the wall as best I can. Even in death she wouldn’t let me go.
The impregnable silence of the moths is broken by the low rumble deep in my gut. Hunger is no longer my body’s way of reminding me to nourish itself. It now serves as a measurement of time. The last whimper was longer than the one before. The pain even sharper. They say a man can survive for weeks without eating. Jesus, how long have I been here?
Time is the only thing I have left. The time between this moment and someone finally coming to find out where we have been or what that smell is.
The time I’ll spend locked away for what I’ve done. Oh God, what have I done?
I probe the floor for the knife I know is there. It had skittered across the hardwood a ways when I’d dropped it. My fingers find a cold sticky puddle first. Pushing through the lump quickly swelling in my throat I reached further and there it was – the implement of both our destinies.
Your’s; face down in a puddle of your own lifeblood. Mine; Eternal damnation.
I grasped the handle and the blade scratched across the floor as I brought it to my chest. Clutching it there as if a crucifix, I rose to my knees to say a prayer to anyone still listening.
Before I’d finished or knew what I was doing, I felt the blade slide easily into the soft flesh of my neck. I could immediately feel my heartbeat quicken as it began pumping my blood through the gaping wound in my throat. As that same beat began to slow, I crawled forward towards my captor. One final act of defiance.
Even though I couldn’t see it, I pictured my lifeblood falling onto her. She would have never stood for such a mess had she been alive.
I couldn’t hold myself upright any longer. The pain was leaving my body and I fell to the floor atop her.
I smiled as my final thought coalesced, at least I ended up on top.
[Art inspired by Story]