It’s dark here, impenetrable, inky darkness. I am all alone, in breathless, haunted silence. Isolated, tortured, left to rot in this prison of madness. It’s like I am put in a void cut off from the world. I wish I could hear something, anything: let them rats scratch, let them lost souls pray, let them convicts scream in horror and pain!

The blades are long and vicious, they are piercing my flesh, they are puncturing my mind. The first few hours were insufferable. I passed out a few times but regained my senses immediately. The sore pain doesn’t kill me, but it doesn’t let me lose consciousness. I am always awake and aware of my torture.

How long have I been here? Hours... Days... Weeks... Years? My mind sometimes wanders to a happy place - to the windmill by the river where I used to play as a child. Or maybe it never happened. Or maybe it will happen in the future. Time doesn’t exist for me anymore. I am now free of fear, of pain, of voice.

Wait! I can hear the steps... Will they let me go now?

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