The Chamber

Drip, drop.

There's a tiny crack in the ceiling of this empty cell. The sound of water droplets slinking through it and diving to the growing puddle below is the only company I've had for days now. Much like a withered married couple tied together only by the frayed threads of mutual dependency and an old-fashioned sense of duty though, it is a relationship fraught with tension. I've been forced to endure the sound for so long now that each time a droplet falls, every cell in my body quivers with fury.

How much more can I bear?

Each violent tremble of emotion upsets my mental balance that little bit more — I feel like I'm going crazy! Or perhaps, I already am...

Whatever. I sigh and look at my arms for the thousandth time, mesmerised by the sight of flayed skin and dried blood. I hold them up to the single source of light streaming through the small window in the centre of the room and inspect them a little closer. They're starting to heal. Will they make it to the finish line this time though, or will they be cut down by new lashings?

Oh God, I really am going crazy!

I only long to be heard, long to be found. My partner, my children... it's been so long since I saw them. Do the kids even remember what I look like? Are they all still searching for me, or have they given up? Has Sam found someone new? I want to shout "I'm still here! My heart still burns for all of you!".

They'll never know, though.

I am trapped here and have accepted fate as my new bedfellow. My voice, my feelings, my presence; none of it will ever felt by the people that matter to me ever again... My ruminations are broken by the faint sound of footsteps and jangling keys; it's mealtime. My keeper is bringing my ambrosia. This apparent act of benevolence hides a sinister truth though — he just wants to keep me alive so that he can continue my suffering. Without life after all, there can be no pain.

The gloved hands of my keeper protruding through the opening at the bottom of the old iron door are as close to human contact as I've had in a long time now. I've tried talking to him, but he never speaks. In a moment of desperation, I even once reached out and grabbed his hand, but just as mine had familiarised itself with the feel of the white leather, he had quickly yanked it away again. Food delivered, he walks away and leaves the building, as he always does. For the next twenty-four hours, I will be the only life in this old, remote fortress once again. Like a lit candle in the window of an empty, isolated house, my light will remain unseen by human eyes.

Clang.

The sound of the main door closing echoes loudly throughout the building, haunting the timeworn walls of my prison. I stumble weakly to my feet and scurry to the window, in the vain hope that I might get to see the face of my keeper. It never happens though, as all I ever see is the craggy concrete pavement leading out to the endless forest.

I am alone.

Two hours pass. The light is waning and so am I; my body is beckoning me into slumber. I'm ready to drif-

THUMP.

I spring to my feet in fear; I've never heard any noise like that whilst I've been here! My mind is racing, my heart thumping. What am I to do? I'm alone and locked up in here, I'm vulnerable! I sit with my eyes closed, trying to control my breathing as I wait to see if anything else happens.

Nothing.

Minutes pass without a sound, so I begin to let myself relax. Probably just some stupid object falling. I walk back over to the window and look outside. Staring at the forest, I zone out and begin to think. Why is this place so still, so quiet? Oh, what I wouldn't give to hear the trees rustle even just once, but no wind seems to enter this place. Despite the abundance of greenery, it's all just so dead. "Ah, what does it matter?" I think to myself as I rekindle with reality. I decide I need to rest, so I turn but as I do, I jump out of my skin.

There's a man standing face-to-face with me.

His green eyes are cold and impenetrable, bestowing a sinister aura upon his handsome face. He's dressed in long robes, ones almost as black as his prominent sideburns. I look down to see his hands outstretched. Palms up, they're holding a pair of rusty shackles. I look up again and his gaze hasn't shifted even slightly, those eyes are still fixed upon me. His hand jerks and I react instinctively; I shove him backwards on the floor. I make a sprint for the door, but he catches my ankle and pulls me down. My body wreathes as I hit the floor but I can't give up. I have to try.

I roll over to find him looming over me with the shackles, throwing himself onto me. I grab him by the wrists and we struggle. He's not much bigger than me but he's so strong, too strong. I cry out as my body begins to buckle, but then he slips and I take the opportunity to push him aside. I get on top of him and start punching as hard as I can, but in the flurry I fail to notice how little an effect my fists are having. My wounded body which clings to life by the skin of its teeth, is too enfeebled.

He grabs my neck with a large hand and squeezes. I frantically struggle, slapping against his torso with bruised, cut hands but it does nothing to stop him.

I wake up in a room of pure white, my limp body being hoisted up by two men dressed exactly like my attacker. In front of me are a few rows of chairs, some occupied — I have an audience. But why? Then I see it, the noose in the middle of the room.

Not a single person in the room is uttering a word, and the audience are uniformly still. I look to the men either side of me but they don't even acknowledge me. They just keep pulling me along until I'm facing the noose, which triggers a loud noise amongst the audience.

Applause.

They've begun clapping and whistling, and smiles are quickly creeping up on their faces. Yet, it feels... so good. They're cheering my end, but it feels so right. Why I wonder? Ah, it's the sound. The perpetual silence driving me mad had finally been torn up, I was free of it. I don't care what anyone thinks, I just have to smile. To laugh. To let my soul relish this freedom. So I do, I laugh as they place the rope around my neck. I laugh until I cackle, I laugh until I howl, I laugh until I roa-.

CRASH.

"So" said a woman in an purple, floral hat, "they were the last, then?"

"Aye, they were the last." said the burly man sitting next to her, adjusting his white leather gloves.

"What was this one, then? Do you know? she replied, the dropped noose creaking as it swayed.

"Typical manic. Caused a load of trouble, and when they attacked one of the staff, well, that was it. Tried to kill him. Can't have that, can you?"

"Oh no, quite. Any family, I wonder?"

"A partner and two kids."

"Oh, the family not here?"

"No. That's the reason this lunatic had been locked up in the first place — they'd killed the lot of 'em. Partner and the kids."