“You don’t seem surprised to be here.”
I ignored the voice in the corner of the dark room with its pitch black walls, floor, and ceiling. Even the barred window, where just the smallest sliver of sunlight shined through, highlighting the torrent of dust floating in the air, was a dark onyx.
“Most panic when they first arrive,” the man continued. “They pant and swear and scream and run around looking for a door they’ll never find.”
Still ignoring the man’s voice, I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my chin upon them, staring forward into the darkness.
“And when they can’t find a door, they go for the window. They scream for help until their throats are raw, they pull at the bars thinking they’re strong enough to break them—they plead, cry, scramble, rationalize, and eventually, after days or sometimes weeks, they do what you’re doing right now. They curl into a ball and stare blankly.”
When the man received no response, he continued once more.
“But you don’t seem to be dissociating like those others. You seem to be…unbothered almost. Like you’ve been here before.” Footsteps echoed in the darkness. “But that’s impossible. I was the first, and therefore, I’ve seen every sorry soul that’s passed through here. You are not a repeat guest.” The footsteps stopped. “So why don’t you care, I wonder?”
A sneeze tried to crawl its way up to my nose, but I bit my tongue until the taste of copper coated my tongue, suppressing it.
“I’ve seen grown men shove their nose to the ground and pray for the first time in their lives to escape. And when that didn’t work, they cursed the very God they asked for help. And when that doesn’t work, do you know who they call for? Do you know the last word that passed their lips?” Movement shifted in the darkness, and a presence came close to me, hot breath brushing against the back of my neck. “It’s ‘momma.”
A moment of pause before the presence retreated.
“There are variations, of course. ‘Where is my momma?’ ‘I want to see my momma.’ ‘I miss my momma.’ ‘Help me, momma.’ ‘Save me, momma’.”
Am amused hum followed the voice, and it lingered for much longer than any of his previous words, lasting in the air like a thick smog.
“Of course, you aren’t required to say it. You could break the cycle, be the first to say something else. ‘dad’; ‘brother’; ‘sister’; ‘lover’. Any variation of those. Hell, you could even say a name. That would be a nice word to speak, wouldn’t it? A name? Names have such power, you know.”
The room didn’t seem so cold minutes ago, and a chill overtook my body, sending tremors through every muscle.
“You look tired. Here, take this.”
I awaited a hand to emerge from the darkness, but instead I only felt something drop into my hand. I furrowed my brow, staring down at my now open palm. I didn’t remember opening it in the first place, but there, staring back at me, was a white tablet, no larger than a fingernail.
When I closed my hand and wrapped my arms back around my knees, a huff broke the otherwise silent atmosphere of the room.
“I won’t force you to take the pill. I won’t even ask you… but you will take it. You might not at first, but eventually you’ll take that pill. You know why? Because you have to. You must. It’s the only way to progress. Otherwise, it will be just you and me, stuck in this room forever. I’ll keep you company at first, talking your ear off about whatever I can—but even I can get bored of talking. And so we’ll be trapped in the silence, for as long as you desire. Maybe hours, maybe days. But you will, at some point, put that pill in your mouth, and swallow it. Unless you desire to remain at this point for the rest of… well, I won’t spoil the surprise.”
I scowled, but as I stared down at the pill, the compulsion to take it seized me. I had no reason to believe this man, whom I could hear but not see. But somehow I knew he spoke the truth—his honesty was too brazen for any doubt to so much as creep in. I would take this pill, and I would take it simply because it was the only choice I could make. There was no other option. Before I knew it, the pill was sliding down my throat. I rubbed my neck and almost choked, yearning for the presence of water to help it go down easier.
Moments later, a drowsiness overtook me, and I rested upon the freezing floor, trembling as I closed my eyes and hoped this would be over when I awoke.
“It won’t,” the man said, as if he could hear my thoughts. “But your optimism is a refreshing change of pace.”
When I opened my eyes, it was with a startling gasp of breath, as if I’d been holding it the whole time. I was out of the dark room, instead standing in the middle of an empty concrete pathway, puddles dotted around and the smell of fresh rain heavy in the air.
The area was quiet, no… silent. No cars, no sirens, no foot traffic. Just utter silence, almost tangible—oppressive, even. I was concealed in the dark, but further down, the path was lit up with bright blue lights strung above it, with matching lampposts nearby.
I wanted inside the building, though I didn’t know why. The weight on my back shifted when I turned to look behind me, seeing nothing but darkness and the backpack straps wrapped tightly around my shoulders.
Something wasn’t right. The hair on the back of my neck rose, and goosebumps formed along my arms. I wanted to move, to run and seek shelter inside the building, but my feet wouldn’t move.
Footsteps tapped behind me, approaching faster than they should have. I made to turn, but I was too slow. A hand wrapped around my mouth and something struck me from behind, over and over and over. I croaked out a broken sound, unable to do anything but panic and choke on my own words as warm liquid trickled down my back and leg, turning cold almost instantly.
Finally, the hand let go of my mouth, and I collapsed, unable to breathe. Pain crept up shortly after—a burning, horrible, searing pain that overtook my entire being. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. My mind raced, but my body was frozen, paralyzed on the cold, wet ground as blood pooled underneath me, sticky and warm.
Tears leaked from my eyes, and I stared up at the dark, empty sky, waiting for a light to break the horizon, for something to reach down and pluck me from my broken body. But instead, I closed my eyes, exhaustion weighing me down, and fell asleep.
“Welcome back,” a familiar voice spoke.
I opened my eyes, expecting to jolt upright and struggle for air. But here I was, sitting in the same curled up ball in the same charcoal room with the same sliver of light infiltrating the room to little success.
I didn’t even need to catch my breath. I just.. sat… still and unmoving and silent.
“Wow… even after all that, you’re still such a bore,” the voice said. “But progress is progress, I guess. Even if that progress is as tame and meek as a lamb.”
I wanted to ask what I’d seen, what had happened to me. It had been too real to simply be a dream. Maybe I was in prison, or kidnapped, or… either way, I wished I could ask the voice hidden in the shadows, but something in me, something deep inside my essence, warned against it. So I kept my mouth shut and stared forward, just as I had at the beginning.
The hot breath warmed my neck again, and a retched smell crinkled my nose. “Come on… just give me something. It doesn’t have to be a name. A title. Anything.” Footsteps clacked in the room, but they were random, one tapping to my left, another to my right, another above me, each step coming from a different direction. They didn’t even echo off the walls. Just a sturdy click that ended as soon as it began. “Surely you had—have, I mean, someone that cares about you. Someone you can call on when you need help.”
I wanted to speak, but I listened to the little voice inside and kept my silence close to my chest.
“I can call them for you. They can come pick you up and take you home. Don’t you want to be home?”
I do, I thought, then stifled a gasp.
“You do? Then what’s stopping you, friend? Tell me. Help me help you. Do you really want to spend the… the rest of your life here? In this dark depressing room?”
What was the point of talking if he could hear them anyway, I thought, unable to stifle it with something else before it filtered through.
“There isn’t,” he said. “But don’t worry, I only hear them when I listen hard enough. Though, I wouldn’t be able to hear them even if I tried if you would just fill the silence with real words.” The breath returned, hotter than ever, reeking of cigarette smoke and old seafood. “Ask me your questions, if you want. I don’t mind.”
Don’t talk, don’t talk, don’t talk, the little voice screamed inside, every instinct in my body agreeing. But what was the point of keeping silent if he could hear me anyway?
“Where am I?” I asked, my voice hoarse and weak.
“He talks,” he finally said. “Finally.”
Silence overtook the room again, and I repeated my question.
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice taking on a softer tone. “Really, I don’t. It’s a dark room with a tiny bit of light coming in, but that’s not anything you don’t already know.”
“What was that dream?” I asked.
“I believe they’re called nightmares,” he said. “Nasty little things really. Fun to watch, though. Horror movies are so bland when you can get entertainment like that directly from the source. Raw, unfiltered horror, brimming in those mushy little meat piles in your skulls.” His voice took on a coarser tone, his words transforming into a gravel crunching hiss. “My turn to ask a question. What’s the worst nightmare you’ve ever had?”
I gulped, speaking before thinking. “This one.” I wanted to shut back up, the room getting colder and the voice getting rougher.
“That’s cute.”
The footsteps changed. Instead of crisp clicks, they were moist stomps, like an elephant stepping in mud, each one still coming from a different direction.
My body had been numb for most of my time in here, but now feeling was returning, slowly but steadily. My heart started beating harder, then faster, my breath becoming loud and heavy, my lungs heaving for air. I couldn’t stop blinking, over and over, just blinking, like I couldn’t get enough moisture to my eyes.
“What’s happening to me?” I asked, if only to stop him from hearing my thoughts, flickering to each part of my body that seemed to awaken.
“You’re making progress. This is a good thing. Just keep talking. It will make you feel better.”
His voice had smoothed out, no longer crunchy and coarse, but smooth and strong.
“What do you want with me?” I asked.
A low rumble shook the walls, vibrating every bone in my body and sending a tremor through the floor. It took me a few moments to realize it wasn’t thunder but his laugher bouncing throughout the room.
“I’ll answer you if you tell me your name.” His voice deepened, somehow even stronger, his breath nearly singing the back of my neck and the acrid stench gagging me.
“What?”
“Your name,” he said again, rushing out the words in a hiss. A rush of air whipped past me, nearly knocking me over. “Tell me.”
Tears welled in my eyes, and I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. He was so close, his droplets of spit like boiling water on my face, the putrid stench sticking to the back of my throat like molasses.
“Samuel,” I whispered out. “Please tell me what you want.”
“What do I want?” he asked, his voice suddenly across the room and his breath no longer blistering my skin. “That doesn’t matter,” he purred, the sound alone rattling my brain. “What matters is what you want? What do you want?”
The question was as simple as all his others, but the answer that formed in my head broke any willpower I had. A sob burst out of me, racking my body and sending a torrent of tears tapping to the floor. I shook my head, willing this to be another dream, a figment of my twisted imagination, but he closed in again.
Something solid rested on my shoulder, five sharp points digging into my skin.
“Tell me,” he sang. “What do you want, Samuel?”
There was no reason to say it out loud, but for some reason, I felt compelled to, as if my choice had been taken away. I had already thrown myself this far down the well, there was no point in stopping now.
“I…” another sob broke my sentence. “I want my momma.”
A low growl escaped him, and something wet and soft wiped against my ear. But then the growl stopped, the smell disappeared, the cold vanished.
My crying stopped long enough to scan the dark room, searching with what little light the window gave. It was as if he’d disappeared entirely. Not even the light tapping of footsteps.
But then metal scraped against metal, and a slim latch was sliding across the window, slowly closing the light off from the room.
I wanted to scream, to beg, but all I could do was watch in horror as a clawed, gnarled finger slid the latch further along until it clicked shut, plummeting the room into complete and total darkness.
“Thank you,” he said.
A scream shattered the silence and burst my eardrums, dozens of razor-sharp teeth piercing my neck. I tried to gasp, only to choke on my own blood, panic seizing my body as two strong hands grabbed my body, digging claws into my flesh. My body went limp to the protest of my panicking brain, the muscles in my arms and legs still twitching helplessly.
He was right, I thought in the last moments before I faded away. All I could think of—the only thought I could conjure in my dying brain was, momma… I want my momma.
A.K. Rohner 