by V. Cobe
CHAPTER 15
Darkness
Alemeth was sitting on the floor in a corner, holding himself, rocking back and forth.
There was no light in that place; whether the eyes were opened or closed, only black could be seen. The air was heavy, and he had the feeling that his lungs were failing. He didn’t know whether it was from the panic or the fact that there really wasn’t enough oxygen. Claustrophobia went back and forth. He urinated in a corner, cried like a baby and shouted. The echo of his voice almost deafened him.
For days he roamed every inch of that cell with his hands, trying to find a weakness, an opening through which he could escape. His fingers frantically fumbled the cold stone of the floor and the three walls. He found cold iron bars with spaces between them through which he could almost fit his head. He climbed the bars and touched the ceiling that was the same as the ground and the walls. There was no escape.
Occasionally, he’d hear sounds that could be rats or any other creeping animal. Other than that, the silence was unbearable. After a while, he began talking to himself. It started with murmurs, from time to time, which quickly became a constant monologue. He’d wonder whether the Brigades were looking for him. He’d talk about his hunger and thirst, shortness of breath and the pain in his body that had begun to emerge. He’d also speak with his mother and with God.
After what seemed like days, when he could already barely move, when he already forgot what he’d thought and spoken, when his mouth had already been glued with anguish, he heard steps approaching. He opened his eyes, and a bright light from behind the bars blinded him right away. His eyes hurt, and he covered his face with his arm. He heard a splash on the stone floor and immediately imagined water. He raised his body from the floor with his arms and crawled toward the light without looking at it. Just like from a hose, a trickle of water fell in an arc on the floor of the cell, from outside the bars, more or less at the height of the light. He opened his mouth, drank and wet his face. But the liquid was warm, and the taste was not of water; he couldn’t tell whether it was because he hadn’t drunk it for so long or because it wasn’t water. Seconds later, the stream of water subsided, the light lowered, and the sound of metal scraping on stone could be heard. The light shifted to the right, always facing him, and disappeared behind the wall.
Alem crept farther to the area from where the metal sound had come and found an aluminum bowl with food inside. Some kind of food. But it didn’t matter what it was, he slipped the pap in his mouth with his hands and licked the bowl. When he finished, he leaned against the wall and rested. Sob after sob, like an old car starting up, he began to cry again.
“Where am I?”
His thoughts had become clearer again after eating.
“Where am I?”
There was no chance he could find that out. There was no sound, and there was no light.
“Help me. Give me the strength to get out of here. Give me the strength to find a way out of here. Or give me the strength to endure being here.”
He never rebelled against God.
He cried for a few more days, screamed and went back to being weak and giving up the ghost.
Once, he was lying in the fetal position when he felt a presence in the cell. He opened his eyes and saw his mother before him, emanating her own light. He hugged her, and she embraced him back, laid him on her lap and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.
But delusions were not always so pleasant. There was a purplish demon with a wrinkled face and rotten teeth, wrapped in long, wavy black veils, that enjoyed visiting. It would approach Alem until their faces were less than a foot away from each other, open his mouth and scream at him as he leaned in a corner crying with his ears covered.
One of the times that the lantern returned to feed him, Alem dragged himself to the bars, and the light withdrew a few steps.
“Please,” he cried as he tried to touch whoever was carrying the lantern, hand stretched through the bars. “Who are you? Please help me. Get me out. Get me out of here!”
“Welcome to Umbra,” replied a mocking voice. “Do you like living in darkness?”
He dropped the bowl on the floor and walked away laughing, leaving Alem crying and clinging to the iron.
“God… have I done something wrong? Was I bad?”
He realized he was witnessing something he shouldn’t have the moment he had seen it. But then, there was nothing he could do.