The Tortured Soul

A lone man, trapped inside of a building of some sort that he has not stepped foot outside for over a decade. People come and go but he doesn't know what's happening outside of room until one day.


2. Who am I?

I remove my eyes from the doorway and look down at myself as I lay in the bed. My body isn’t as it used to be, I’ve lost so much weight all that is left is skin and bones practically; my rib cage shows and you can see organs, you can see my heart beating whatever blood I have left in my body. I have a look at my hands and see that they are still shackled to the bed, the shackles have started to dig into my wrists. Small rusty flakes are starting to fall off of the shackles and into opens wounds that are on my wrists, it beings to burn but there is nothing that I can do about it. I move my feet, they are also shackled to the bed but they aren’t as badly damaged, they have small cuts around the ankles but nothing too deep like my wrists. I look back at my arms and I start to notice that this ugly, wretched white puss is starting to leak out. I can see some sort of tag that used to be on my wrists, it’s barely readable under all the old, thick, stale dark blood. It had “Ta* Nu***r: 19*10**9” written on it, the best that I could make out from the blood covering that rest of the tag. I start to try and move my tongue, to try and say something, but I notice that there is nothing there. All that remains of my tongue is the frenulum, I quickly think of how I had lost my tongue, but nothing comes back.

While rustling through my memories trying to figure how and when I had lost my tongue, the good old days had returned to me. The days where it was beautiful outside and I spent it with people and family that I loved. Those days were gone, I was never going to get them back again. I’ve been locked up here for as long as I could remember. It was as if it was only yesterday the last I laid my feet in soft, sharp grass.

“Daddy, look at this!” yelled a little girl, I couldn’t remember who she was, where I was, who I was. She was holding a beautiful rose; it was a black rose. It was jet black, but it wasn’t matte, it was more like a black onyx that had a beautiful reflection when the light hit it. “It’s beautiful darling” it wasn’t even me speaking, it was as if I was living in a dream, I couldn’t control what was happening. We fall to the ground, it wasn’t hard, it was gentle. We looked up at the sky and saw such beautiful and shape clouds. “Ohhh doesn’t that look like a dog?” I said to this little girl, whose name I didn’t even remember. How is it possible to forget your own daughter's name? I didn’t want this dream to end, it was too good to end. A gush of wind begins to move the clouds and they start to cover the sun. “Come on sweetie, let’s get going before it rains” my daughter starts to chuck a tantrum. She runs off into the woods, I follow behind her. It all starts to come back to me, what had happened, how I ended up where I am right now. I don’t want to relive what had happened that day, I want to escape but I can’t. Something is stopping me from escaping this nightmare of mine.

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