The horror

It had been more than two weeks inside the cell. I felt the hands that werent really there, I felt them. I knew that beyond the wall on the left was your cell and the one on the right was empty. I heard them talking too, every night I heard them discussing what they were going to do to me when the time came to bring me from the cell. I didn't really care anymore because time in the cell had dried my reserve and taken hope from my basket. But I lie, I do care. I do not wish to suffer, I wish to die.

My hands were tarnished from digging. My nails were broken from scrapping with a broken hair pin that I found in the corner. I dont know which is more broken, the pin or my will. The blood on
my wrists had dried and crumbled in places where the wounds had healed. I felt defeated. Yet, I heard you whimpering next to me through the stone of the wall. And so I whispered to you
lovingly.

"shhh my dear, I will tell them it was me...all me. I will insist they let you go in exchange for my information...I promise."

And you responded with nothing because you hated me. I could feel your hatred as sure and sharp as a knife. I wanted to explain the reasons for my harsh words but I could not. They were just
too complicated. There was just too many wounds to heal and I would soon meet my fate.

"Listen, they will come for me but I will be gone. I have sent them a message that you shall serve as their reason to break these walls. They will come too late, you see. They will come too
late for me."

The tears I should have, I have none. I cried the first 4 nights because you had abandoned me. Then when they found you, I sat by the wall to your cell and just listened. I heard your
prayers....to your family, to your god. I heard your weeping and it seemed distant. And then your weeping coaxed my own tears to come again and I then forgave you for deserting me. How many
times did I forgive you for deserting me. When I was sick, you did not come. When I was lonely, I remained alone in the forest, crying by the old oak next to the cemetary gates. And finally,
when they came to take me away, I saw you put your hand to your face and watch in horror....but you did not help me.

I should be grateful. They say death is a gift for those who live in hell on earth. Maybe this time, when they come for me, there will be death that awaits and not more torture.

I look down at my torn wrists and wish that the stone had been sharper and the earth had been colder. Maybe if death had taken me sooner, I would not feel the hate in my heart, I would not
feel the love in my heart and I would not sit by the wall and try to convince you to take my salvation. But I do this because I have no hope but the hope to save you.

They are coming now. I hear their hard heels hitting the stones and their breath against the cold air. I hear the lock turning and their advancement. I hear them coming for me.

"Hey, stay away from the north wall. They will be here soon, be ready to flee."
.....................
She was there beside me, on the rack. They had done to her what they would soon do to me. She turned with a bloody face and her lips quivered.

"I know what you are thinking." she mumbled. She spoke with all her strength because to her, it was important for me. She felt my inner turmoil which was more powerful than my will to live.

I spoke to her softly as to keep the others from hearing. "what do you mean?"

she smiled a grim and horrible smile. "The other one..the one in the cell beside you. He has forgotten who you are. You arent even a fleetig thought. He weeps and weeps...for himself."

The hurt was enormous but she knew it was all I needed to welcome the pain that was ahead. My will to live was gone. I nodded my head and watched the soldiers walk up to me with their
instruments of torture. I smiled.

The pain would be welcoming to the thing I had inside. The thing that had become nothing.