ESCAPE (draft 2)
She was still trembling. The rasping inscrutable voice still hung in the air ; rest would be elusive, her breathing too fast for comfort.The silence almost choked her : its implications of further torment were the stuff of nightmares. She wished to be able to forget, if only for a moment, and vanish into a vortex of calm and nothingness.
When someone spends a long time in isolation with only a few stimuli to assuage their thirst for entertainment even the faintest of noises can become noticeable to such an extent that it turns into a persistent obsession. She couldn't make out exactly where it came from, but it didn't matter anymore. The only sure thing about it was that it never stopped, not even when she slept. Her eyes could not fully open. Not until the swelling went down.
Outside it was dark already. The dim street lamps shed a very particular kind of light into the room, filtered as they were by the muddy crumpled curtains behind her. The room smelled stuffy like mould papers and pieces of dusty machinery.
It would be unlikely for them to come back before morning now. Not if she made no noise and faked sound sleep. She had grown used to the process of measuring the time by her own state of grogginess: afterwards it always took a few hours before she'd recover her normal state of consciousness. She didn’t want to think about what had happened. It was best to block it out and let it go; no use in torturing oneself about something that cannot be undone. The only thing to do was to avoid future reprisals by just getting out.
She had been here so long now she couldn't remember when it started. It seemed she'd been here all her life , though for sure that could not be. Her memories had vanished in a haze of confusion that left her feeling empty and one cannot feel too sorry for having lost something one cannot remember. The only thing she was not confused about was that it had to stop, no matter the consequences. A window of opportunity demanded to be taken advantage of : during the day it was too busy but now it was late and everybody expected her to feel too sick to go anywhere. Of course it could end up being one of those times they checked back into the room at random and if so it would be bad, but one can only seize the moment when it presents itself in all its immediacy.
All she seemed to crave now was freedom, even though she could not remember what it was like to be free. The outside seemed too infinite to be real, and too big to bear but exquisitely devoid of all that oppressed her into submission. Her stomach stirred at the thought of it and felt a sharp pang of anticipation emerge from somewhere in the middle of her chest. Damn. She would have to control herself if she wanted to get out of alive; she would have to cool it, or Ms. J would come again, and this time she would not be alone. The thought of it made her feel even sicker : her assistants were intensely repellant creatures. What she could not respect was their extreme subservience and lack of critical judgement : she found obeying others without questioning almost obscene; it turned you into a lifeless shell of a human being.
She attempted to move her head slightly, trying to be very careful so as to not make a sound. Very slowly she turned to the right and tried to peek out to check whether all was quiet behind her but her head didn't seem to respond to her orders and instead kept on regularly jerking to the side despite her efforts to keep it still; she drew in breath and looked around: there was nobody to be seen, or at least it seemed so.
The only way out was going through the corridor but even just thinking of it she could feel those ceiling lights pierce her skin with a relentlessness as sharp as needles ; usually you went through it slowly and you never made it half way through. So many times she’d seen floated through them as if hovering on a cloud of unreality : everything seemed fluorescent blue and you felt so sleepy despite the terror of knowing what came next. You could never remember going through it again backwards; by then you would be unconscious.
Now she'd finally make it through till the end walking on her own without support. A chill of hair found its way from underneath the door meeting her skin with surprise. With it traveled faint murmurs, undecipherable and distant. The cold sensation suddenly woke her up : the time to make a move had come. She took a step forward but something stopped her in mid track. Could there be someone hiding between furniture, intent on spying on her ? Her eyes closed to a slither in an effort to sharpen their vision. It was probably just nerves.
She started staring at the door. It was close enough to make a go for it, and yet it felt almost desperately far away: it was like a vast chasm that required inhuman strength to cross and yet somehow she would have to find the courage to face it. Something from beyond it seemed to be calling to her, seducing her with its enticing charms while at the same time malignantly belittling and even mocking her. It was a threshold to a mysterious world that not only irresistibly attracted her but also seemed to emanate an indifference so great as to be almost malevolence.
Perhaps it was a premonition of danger to come or perhaps she had been preconditioned to feel hesitant about entertaining plans of escape but doubt suddenly gripped her: if it was really so easy for her to get out then why had they left her alone unattended? Could this be a test ? Maybe they were all just watching her on a closed circuit TV right now : maybe they were even betting whether she would be attempting her endeavour and risk capture; she could almost hear their frayed voices contemptuously argue with one another just for the sake of passing time. Later those same voices would shout in unison demon like orders like soulless robots following a script.
With a sudden movement she pushed herself up, eyes fixed on the handle: a moment later she was beside it. As a result her heart started to pound hard: now she had to turn it down. A tiny drop of sweat pushed its way down her armpit and slowly slid down her side. She put her hand on it and pushed down : it gave way easily. Nobody was on the other side. The stairwell seemed clear and so did the dreaded corridor.
On the right hand side of the wall there was a broom cupboard : in the worst case scenario she could hide in there. The thought had been hardly out of her mind when she heard someone come up the stairs so she quickly dived in. Unfortunately this caused her to realise that the cupboard folding door was faulty and would not shut. If whoever was walking down the corridor didn’t stop soon they would have to pass her by and they would see her.
She listened to the approaching steps as if frozen in time: nothing seemed louder than the pounding of her own heart. Holding her breath for what seemed ages she felt the tension in her body increase until the weirdest image came into her mind and she found herself daydreaming about those Alice in Wonderland cookies that could magically make you smaller. If only that were possible.. - she thought - I could escape so easily...
Not ten seconds had passed when she noticed something change: the steps had become fainter and then had started to travel further down: whoever was responsible for them must be headed for the stairway rather than the hallway ; this meant she'd be safe - at least for now. She gasped for air: it had been a close call. Before going any further she took a few moments in order to calm down: the worst was surely yet to come.
The most important thing now was making sure she would not bump into anyone while walking down the stairs ; it would be mainly a matter of luck. She listened for sounds: nothing worth a mention grabbed her attention so she made a run for the stairs. In a flash she was on the ground floor, having rushed down the entire length of the building without meeting anyone. The main entrance door lurked ominously ahead. Another few steps now and she’d be out.
Hiding behind a column halfway between the stairwell and the entrance she scanned the space ahead; she was breathing heavily from the sprint and hoped no one would hear: any overzealous guard would leap at the opportunity to gain Ms J's favor by reporting on her. She would wait until she felt reasonably safe and only then she’d a final dash for the exit.
A few moments later she was outside having to face a heavy curtain of rain. It was pouring down. In addition, the air was so infused with fog that it was hard to even see the sky. She instinctively shuddered and looked about: a guard was standing just a few steps away, her eyes glazed and vacant like hollowed out holes. Despite wearing a trench coat she was drenched in water and her dripping wet black hair unforgivingly slapped her face. She instantly recognised her for one of the most vicious of Ms. J’s crew. Filled with dread she threw herself into the road, oblivious to everything else. Any fate now would be better than being dragged back into the building.
II
She ran and ran and ran for what seemed an eternity until she stumbled onto something and fell on the ground. She had been going on adrenaline alone and hadn’t even stopped to check whether she was being followed. Everything around her was wet and slippery and she had no idea where she was, except that she’d hardly seen a place so dark and desolate before. She wondered what had happened to the guard. She could not see her anywhere but that didn’t necessarily mean that she had not followed her. Anyone of them could be lurching somewhere in the darkness now waiting for the right time to spring. She had hoped the fog would be a good vehicle for running away unseen but she hadn't thought of sound. Fog carried it and they would be listening out for anything out of the ordinary: as soon as the alarm were raised they would get searching; the smart thing to do was to find a place to temporarily take refuge in but she felt too exhausted even to think of where.
After a long stilt of time spent on the ground she tried to get up without making a noise. A while must have passed because now the fog seemed to be slowly clearing and she was able to make out other people’s shadows hiding in between street corners. Everyone was a potential threat: she could not take the risk of trusting a random stranger; truth be told she always thought people just preferred to stare rather than be of actual help and although she was obviously in trouble she was sure nobody would offer support.
Suddenly a paranoid thought crawled into her mind: could it be that even those strangers were in it, snooping around to report back to head quarters? There probably were plenty of agents on the outside normally employed to recruit victims for their sick experiments and if need be the same agents could easily be asked to collaborate on other matters of urgency like chasing unfortunate escapees back into the compounds. Alternatively they could simply be just another brand of selfish, closed off people wanting nothing to do with anyone but themselves. Either way she better focus on finding some place to hide, though the tiredness was getting harder to overcome.
It was the emergency energy that was running out now and she felt as if someone was about to pull the plug. She’d need to get somewhere safe as fast as possible without getting noticed. The thought of boarding a train was feasible but she had no money for the ticket and begging or stealing was out of the question. The real trouble was she didn’t even know where either she or the nearest station was. She listened intently as if for some sign and for a moment she thought she could hear the rustle and bustle of wheels shuffling on train tracks but the tiredness in her body was catching up with her and she almost couldn’t feel her legs anymore. Even taking into consideration the drugs she was probably on she couldn’t understand why she was so worn out, given that it hadn’t been that long since she had started running. She could not exclude poisoning as an extreme means to keep her inside but even so she would have to keep on going, holding on even the faintest glimmer of hope so she could stay a fugitive long enough for them to give up. Thinking about that she cleared her mind and found enough energy to get up and start walking again but after not even a minute her legs just gave way and she fell down. Somehow she managed to drag herself into an out of the way passageway in between buildings and there, after covering her face with her coat she passed out.
III
It was late at night when she finally reached the railway station. She had no recollection of how she’d gotten there and no idea what time it could be. It felt strange to see people around at such odd hours but she guessed people on the outside might not sleep as much. The street lamps emitted a dim light and though it had stopped raining there was still a thin layer of fog rising creepily from the train tracks. It looked rather ghostly in a slightly unsettling kind of way but overall she was feeling much better. She was close to freedom now, it was just a matter of boarding a train as soon as possible. She found the departure timetable hanging down from the main hall ceiling and after quickly scanning it she ascertained that the first long distance train was due to depart in ten minutes from platform four.
A huge feeling of elation began to take hold of her. The train would be already there ready to go, just a short few minutes away. In a trance she began to walk towards platform four and it was such a sweet sensation to be finally so close to complete escape that everything around began to seem unreal. She couldn’t believe she had finally made it. So many hours she had spent thinking about how this point in time would feel, when she’d finally breathe without fear of further torment. She lost herself in such a sweet anticipating daze that when a hand touched her on the shoulder she almost screamed. In a jolt she turned around and saw a man with a pale anxious face looking at her with an enquiring expression.
- Excuse me – the man hesitated - do you… happen to… know where this train goes? –
He was so nervous that he seemed to be almost trembling and as soon as the words had left his mouth he averted his gaze from her, choosing to stare instead at some invisible object beyond her. She was so shaken that for a few instants she found herself unable to react. The sound of his words had been as wraithlike as an otherworldly presence and he looked like an absurd puppet pleading for reassurance with eyes so glazed as to seem almost inhuman. When she finally managed to conjure up something to say it sounded like a weak apologetic “sorry…” and the man walked away, looking more bewildered and troubled than before.
It had all happened so fast that she hadn’t had the chance to come to grips with her fright: in that fraction of a second her subconscious had gone so haywire that she felt herself starting to shake. It was actually surprising she hadn’t seen any of the guards yet, and she instantly wondered if they had been stationed around to watch over the trains. Almost as an answer one of them suddenly materialised right in front of her, about fifty yards away. Immediately she changed her course but there were five or more now standing on the platform next to the train she wanted to board: she froze.
Dressed in long trench coats and large waxed brim hats there was no mistaking them: they all looked the same with their long black wet hair, throughly soaked as if they’d spent all night in the rain. The flashback immediately flooded her consciousness: she could once again see the deceiving grimaces shrouded in partial darkness patiently waiting to ambush her out of the shadowy refuge of her sleep… she remembered the cruel semblance of kindness on their faces, masking their real intentions with lips curled in trickster smiles… they always seemed to brandish some terrifying weapon of affliction with nonchalantly familiarity. The horror had started back: this time, it was needles.
A wave of panic took hold of her and as if by magic they all sensed it at once: it was too late. Before she could move they were all around her. Quickly she was surrounded with no means of escape. The menacing circle of death encroached upon her with the inevitability of fate and her visioned narrowed down to her own hands. She knew soon her own flesh would be pierced over and over with no pity. They loved to inflict pain. They were merciless. They were having fun.
She wished she could plead to be spared but it was no use. She knew this was it: surrender was the only choice. She closed her eyes. Suddenly she felt herself being pushed onto the ground and held still by numerous hands. Next she felt the sharp end of the needles prick her skin like sharp knives and she was slashed again and again; her screams mixed with tears and her blood oozed out of the open wounds in gushes. She cried and howled and screamed until her voice disappeared all together, drowned by the senseless violence. Eventually she felt her consciousness trying to give up and slide somewhere else. More than the pain she hated her own powerlessness, her own inability to fight the inevitable and in that moment of clarity she understood that her faith would be worse than death: they had no intention of killing her. No, they just wanted to make her insane.
IV
It was light when something awakened her from a dreamless stupor. An involuntary muscle spasm had startled her from sleep and as she tried to swallow she tasted salt and dried up tears; her neck was sore from hanging in between her knees. She realised her arms had been wrapped around her head for a long time, as if to try and protect it from imaginary harm. As she allowed them to drop back down she felt the urge to touch her face to make sure she was still real and alive. The confusion was all encompassing. She felt like throwing up. For a moment she wondered what this place was until the familiar hiss gave it away. The pale glimmer of dirty sunlight was unmistakable. Could it all have been a dream ? She doubted it, and yet perhaps it was a possibility. She knew she shouldn’t cry, but her body seemed to have acquired its own will. Tears started streaming silently down her face: she curled up in a ball in the far corner of her room and cried herself to sleep.
After a few hours she emerged from sleep to find she had run out of tears. Everything had fallen silent and eerie like a black and white movie stuck on pause. Faced with such numbness she let herself seamlessly slip into it. She was like a sunken animal lost in a rubber dream made out of blank space: nothing could ever reach her now let alone dredge her out of the limitless distance she had dropped into.
A few hours passed, or maybe it was days or weeks. Then at some point the voices came back, but she couldn’t really tell them apart. They were vague and wispy like trees wavering in an invisible wind and she couldn’t be bothered with them. The only thing she would always recognise was the sound of the well known steps coming from the corridor. They would approach with sure footing, stomping on the ground with the unmovable solidity of self assuredness. Unlike before though, she wasn’t frightened of them anymore. It was as if the world had decided to turn into a play to which she was the sometimes bemused sometimes bored spectator. Once the steps were beside her she would just keep still and wait for the usual words to be spoken in her ear. They often were so close as to seem to originate from inside her own head and they would ask in a patronising tone :
- So, how are we doing today? -
She would never answer. Soon enough a robotic voice would do it for her and she always knew what it would say:
- Oh, as per usual doctor. She hasn’t moved from the corner since after the treatment –
- Ah. Good work - Ms. J’s voice would reply – A few more treatments and she’ll be ready to join the others -
When someone spends a long time in isolation with only a few stimuli to assuage their thirst for entertainment even the faintest of noises can become noticeable to such an extent that it turns into a persistent obsession. She couldn't make out exactly where it came from, but it didn't matter anymore. The only sure thing about it was that it never stopped, not even when she slept. Her eyes could not fully open. Not until the swelling went down.
Outside it was dark already. The dim street lamps shed a very particular kind of light into the room, filtered as they were by the muddy crumpled curtains behind her. The room smelled stuffy like mould papers and pieces of dusty machinery.
It would be unlikely for them to come back before morning now. Not if she made no noise and faked sound sleep. She had grown used to the process of measuring the time by her own state of grogginess: afterwards it always took a few hours before she'd recover her normal state of consciousness. She didn’t want to think about what had happened. It was best to block it out and let it go; no use in torturing oneself about something that cannot be undone. The only thing to do was to avoid future reprisals by just getting out.
She had been here so long now she couldn't remember when it started. It seemed she'd been here all her life , though for sure that could not be. Her memories had vanished in a haze of confusion that left her feeling empty and one cannot feel too sorry for having lost something one cannot remember. The only thing she was not confused about was that it had to stop, no matter the consequences. A window of opportunity demanded to be taken advantage of : during the day it was too busy but now it was late and everybody expected her to feel too sick to go anywhere. Of course it could end up being one of those times they checked back into the room at random and if so it would be bad, but one can only seize the moment when it presents itself in all its immediacy.
All she seemed to crave now was freedom, even though she could not remember what it was like to be free. The outside seemed too infinite to be real, and too big to bear but exquisitely devoid of all that oppressed her into submission. Her stomach stirred at the thought of it and felt a sharp pang of anticipation emerge from somewhere in the middle of her chest. Damn. She would have to control herself if she wanted to get out of alive; she would have to cool it, or Ms. J would come again, and this time she would not be alone. The thought of it made her feel even sicker : her assistants were intensely repellant creatures. What she could not respect was their extreme subservience and lack of critical judgement : she found obeying others without questioning almost obscene; it turned you into a lifeless shell of a human being.
She attempted to move her head slightly, trying to be very careful so as to not make a sound. Very slowly she turned to the right and tried to peek out to check whether all was quiet behind her but her head didn't seem to respond to her orders and instead kept on regularly jerking to the side despite her efforts to keep it still; she drew in breath and looked around: there was nobody to be seen, or at least it seemed so.
The only way out was going through the corridor but even just thinking of it she could feel those ceiling lights pierce her skin with a relentlessness as sharp as needles ; usually you went through it slowly and you never made it half way through. So many times she’d seen floated through them as if hovering on a cloud of unreality : everything seemed fluorescent blue and you felt so sleepy despite the terror of knowing what came next. You could never remember going through it again backwards; by then you would be unconscious.
Now she'd finally make it through till the end walking on her own without support. A chill of hair found its way from underneath the door meeting her skin with surprise. With it traveled faint murmurs, undecipherable and distant. The cold sensation suddenly woke her up : the time to make a move had come. She took a step forward but something stopped her in mid track. Could there be someone hiding between furniture, intent on spying on her ? Her eyes closed to a slither in an effort to sharpen their vision. It was probably just nerves.
She started staring at the door. It was close enough to make a go for it, and yet it felt almost desperately far away: it was like a vast chasm that required inhuman strength to cross and yet somehow she would have to find the courage to face it. Something from beyond it seemed to be calling to her, seducing her with its enticing charms while at the same time malignantly belittling and even mocking her. It was a threshold to a mysterious world that not only irresistibly attracted her but also seemed to emanate an indifference so great as to be almost malevolence.
Perhaps it was a premonition of danger to come or perhaps she had been preconditioned to feel hesitant about entertaining plans of escape but doubt suddenly gripped her: if it was really so easy for her to get out then why had they left her alone unattended? Could this be a test ? Maybe they were all just watching her on a closed circuit TV right now : maybe they were even betting whether she would be attempting her endeavour and risk capture; she could almost hear their frayed voices contemptuously argue with one another just for the sake of passing time. Later those same voices would shout in unison demon like orders like soulless robots following a script.
With a sudden movement she pushed herself up, eyes fixed on the handle: a moment later she was beside it. As a result her heart started to pound hard: now she had to turn it down. A tiny drop of sweat pushed its way down her armpit and slowly slid down her side. She put her hand on it and pushed down : it gave way easily. Nobody was on the other side. The stairwell seemed clear and so did the dreaded corridor.
On the right hand side of the wall there was a broom cupboard : in the worst case scenario she could hide in there. The thought had been hardly out of her mind when she heard someone come up the stairs so she quickly dived in. Unfortunately this caused her to realise that the cupboard folding door was faulty and would not shut. If whoever was walking down the corridor didn’t stop soon they would have to pass her by and they would see her.
She listened to the approaching steps as if frozen in time: nothing seemed louder than the pounding of her own heart. Holding her breath for what seemed ages she felt the tension in her body increase until the weirdest image came into her mind and she found herself daydreaming about those Alice in Wonderland cookies that could magically make you smaller. If only that were possible.. - she thought - I could escape so easily...
Not ten seconds had passed when she noticed something change: the steps had become fainter and then had started to travel further down: whoever was responsible for them must be headed for the stairway rather than the hallway ; this meant she'd be safe - at least for now. She gasped for air: it had been a close call. Before going any further she took a few moments in order to calm down: the worst was surely yet to come.
The most important thing now was making sure she would not bump into anyone while walking down the stairs ; it would be mainly a matter of luck. She listened for sounds: nothing worth a mention grabbed her attention so she made a run for the stairs. In a flash she was on the ground floor, having rushed down the entire length of the building without meeting anyone. The main entrance door lurked ominously ahead. Another few steps now and she’d be out.
Hiding behind a column halfway between the stairwell and the entrance she scanned the space ahead; she was breathing heavily from the sprint and hoped no one would hear: any overzealous guard would leap at the opportunity to gain Ms J's favor by reporting on her. She would wait until she felt reasonably safe and only then she’d a final dash for the exit.
A few moments later she was outside having to face a heavy curtain of rain. It was pouring down. In addition, the air was so infused with fog that it was hard to even see the sky. She instinctively shuddered and looked about: a guard was standing just a few steps away, her eyes glazed and vacant like hollowed out holes. Despite wearing a trench coat she was drenched in water and her dripping wet black hair unforgivingly slapped her face. She instantly recognised her for one of the most vicious of Ms. J’s crew. Filled with dread she threw herself into the road, oblivious to everything else. Any fate now would be better than being dragged back into the building.
II
She ran and ran and ran for what seemed an eternity until she stumbled onto something and fell on the ground. She had been going on adrenaline alone and hadn’t even stopped to check whether she was being followed. Everything around her was wet and slippery and she had no idea where she was, except that she’d hardly seen a place so dark and desolate before. She wondered what had happened to the guard. She could not see her anywhere but that didn’t necessarily mean that she had not followed her. Anyone of them could be lurching somewhere in the darkness now waiting for the right time to spring. She had hoped the fog would be a good vehicle for running away unseen but she hadn't thought of sound. Fog carried it and they would be listening out for anything out of the ordinary: as soon as the alarm were raised they would get searching; the smart thing to do was to find a place to temporarily take refuge in but she felt too exhausted even to think of where.
After a long stilt of time spent on the ground she tried to get up without making a noise. A while must have passed because now the fog seemed to be slowly clearing and she was able to make out other people’s shadows hiding in between street corners. Everyone was a potential threat: she could not take the risk of trusting a random stranger; truth be told she always thought people just preferred to stare rather than be of actual help and although she was obviously in trouble she was sure nobody would offer support.
Suddenly a paranoid thought crawled into her mind: could it be that even those strangers were in it, snooping around to report back to head quarters? There probably were plenty of agents on the outside normally employed to recruit victims for their sick experiments and if need be the same agents could easily be asked to collaborate on other matters of urgency like chasing unfortunate escapees back into the compounds. Alternatively they could simply be just another brand of selfish, closed off people wanting nothing to do with anyone but themselves. Either way she better focus on finding some place to hide, though the tiredness was getting harder to overcome.
It was the emergency energy that was running out now and she felt as if someone was about to pull the plug. She’d need to get somewhere safe as fast as possible without getting noticed. The thought of boarding a train was feasible but she had no money for the ticket and begging or stealing was out of the question. The real trouble was she didn’t even know where either she or the nearest station was. She listened intently as if for some sign and for a moment she thought she could hear the rustle and bustle of wheels shuffling on train tracks but the tiredness in her body was catching up with her and she almost couldn’t feel her legs anymore. Even taking into consideration the drugs she was probably on she couldn’t understand why she was so worn out, given that it hadn’t been that long since she had started running. She could not exclude poisoning as an extreme means to keep her inside but even so she would have to keep on going, holding on even the faintest glimmer of hope so she could stay a fugitive long enough for them to give up. Thinking about that she cleared her mind and found enough energy to get up and start walking again but after not even a minute her legs just gave way and she fell down. Somehow she managed to drag herself into an out of the way passageway in between buildings and there, after covering her face with her coat she passed out.
III
It was late at night when she finally reached the railway station. She had no recollection of how she’d gotten there and no idea what time it could be. It felt strange to see people around at such odd hours but she guessed people on the outside might not sleep as much. The street lamps emitted a dim light and though it had stopped raining there was still a thin layer of fog rising creepily from the train tracks. It looked rather ghostly in a slightly unsettling kind of way but overall she was feeling much better. She was close to freedom now, it was just a matter of boarding a train as soon as possible. She found the departure timetable hanging down from the main hall ceiling and after quickly scanning it she ascertained that the first long distance train was due to depart in ten minutes from platform four.
A huge feeling of elation began to take hold of her. The train would be already there ready to go, just a short few minutes away. In a trance she began to walk towards platform four and it was such a sweet sensation to be finally so close to complete escape that everything around began to seem unreal. She couldn’t believe she had finally made it. So many hours she had spent thinking about how this point in time would feel, when she’d finally breathe without fear of further torment. She lost herself in such a sweet anticipating daze that when a hand touched her on the shoulder she almost screamed. In a jolt she turned around and saw a man with a pale anxious face looking at her with an enquiring expression.
- Excuse me – the man hesitated - do you… happen to… know where this train goes? –
He was so nervous that he seemed to be almost trembling and as soon as the words had left his mouth he averted his gaze from her, choosing to stare instead at some invisible object beyond her. She was so shaken that for a few instants she found herself unable to react. The sound of his words had been as wraithlike as an otherworldly presence and he looked like an absurd puppet pleading for reassurance with eyes so glazed as to seem almost inhuman. When she finally managed to conjure up something to say it sounded like a weak apologetic “sorry…” and the man walked away, looking more bewildered and troubled than before.
It had all happened so fast that she hadn’t had the chance to come to grips with her fright: in that fraction of a second her subconscious had gone so haywire that she felt herself starting to shake. It was actually surprising she hadn’t seen any of the guards yet, and she instantly wondered if they had been stationed around to watch over the trains. Almost as an answer one of them suddenly materialised right in front of her, about fifty yards away. Immediately she changed her course but there were five or more now standing on the platform next to the train she wanted to board: she froze.
Dressed in long trench coats and large waxed brim hats there was no mistaking them: they all looked the same with their long black wet hair, throughly soaked as if they’d spent all night in the rain. The flashback immediately flooded her consciousness: she could once again see the deceiving grimaces shrouded in partial darkness patiently waiting to ambush her out of the shadowy refuge of her sleep… she remembered the cruel semblance of kindness on their faces, masking their real intentions with lips curled in trickster smiles… they always seemed to brandish some terrifying weapon of affliction with nonchalantly familiarity. The horror had started back: this time, it was needles.
A wave of panic took hold of her and as if by magic they all sensed it at once: it was too late. Before she could move they were all around her. Quickly she was surrounded with no means of escape. The menacing circle of death encroached upon her with the inevitability of fate and her visioned narrowed down to her own hands. She knew soon her own flesh would be pierced over and over with no pity. They loved to inflict pain. They were merciless. They were having fun.
She wished she could plead to be spared but it was no use. She knew this was it: surrender was the only choice. She closed her eyes. Suddenly she felt herself being pushed onto the ground and held still by numerous hands. Next she felt the sharp end of the needles prick her skin like sharp knives and she was slashed again and again; her screams mixed with tears and her blood oozed out of the open wounds in gushes. She cried and howled and screamed until her voice disappeared all together, drowned by the senseless violence. Eventually she felt her consciousness trying to give up and slide somewhere else. More than the pain she hated her own powerlessness, her own inability to fight the inevitable and in that moment of clarity she understood that her faith would be worse than death: they had no intention of killing her. No, they just wanted to make her insane.
IV
It was light when something awakened her from a dreamless stupor. An involuntary muscle spasm had startled her from sleep and as she tried to swallow she tasted salt and dried up tears; her neck was sore from hanging in between her knees. She realised her arms had been wrapped around her head for a long time, as if to try and protect it from imaginary harm. As she allowed them to drop back down she felt the urge to touch her face to make sure she was still real and alive. The confusion was all encompassing. She felt like throwing up. For a moment she wondered what this place was until the familiar hiss gave it away. The pale glimmer of dirty sunlight was unmistakable. Could it all have been a dream ? She doubted it, and yet perhaps it was a possibility. She knew she shouldn’t cry, but her body seemed to have acquired its own will. Tears started streaming silently down her face: she curled up in a ball in the far corner of her room and cried herself to sleep.
After a few hours she emerged from sleep to find she had run out of tears. Everything had fallen silent and eerie like a black and white movie stuck on pause. Faced with such numbness she let herself seamlessly slip into it. She was like a sunken animal lost in a rubber dream made out of blank space: nothing could ever reach her now let alone dredge her out of the limitless distance she had dropped into.
A few hours passed, or maybe it was days or weeks. Then at some point the voices came back, but she couldn’t really tell them apart. They were vague and wispy like trees wavering in an invisible wind and she couldn’t be bothered with them. The only thing she would always recognise was the sound of the well known steps coming from the corridor. They would approach with sure footing, stomping on the ground with the unmovable solidity of self assuredness. Unlike before though, she wasn’t frightened of them anymore. It was as if the world had decided to turn into a play to which she was the sometimes bemused sometimes bored spectator. Once the steps were beside her she would just keep still and wait for the usual words to be spoken in her ear. They often were so close as to seem to originate from inside her own head and they would ask in a patronising tone :
- So, how are we doing today? -
She would never answer. Soon enough a robotic voice would do it for her and she always knew what it would say:
- Oh, as per usual doctor. She hasn’t moved from the corner since after the treatment –
- Ah. Good work - Ms. J’s voice would reply – A few more treatments and she’ll be ready to join the others -
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