Short Story

writhing body there was no longer an inch of foothold on the firm floor of the

I awoke to a cacophony of screams, both of excitement and of pain. I jolted up quickly, unable to control my own muscles or vocal chords, as if a spectre was holding me back with airy fingers of death.

When the gunshot rang through my ears, I, as well as everyone around me was stunned in confusion, fear, and lack of comprehension. They looked around to see where the bullet had landed and noticed him, a man in his late forties looking down at his stomach. The hand that covered the area was stained with a thick, dark red color that coated his clothing. The crowd drew away from him as he fell to his knees, just realizing that he’d been shot and he was going to die. When he looked up at the police, they looked away, ashamed of their actions and unaware of the impact his death would have on his family, his friends.

I looked around. "Yeah, maybe." She threw out her cigarette and nodded to me before walking back into her room. I stood outside, just watching room five. *What the hell could be in there?* I leaned against the door, put my ear to it and I listened. It was silent for a short while, but I heard a muffled knock come from inside. I continued to listen. Another knock. Then another knock. And then, complete silence. I kept my ear at the door, just listening, waiting. Another knock, but this time, it was against the door. I jumped back, shocked by what had just happened. I knew there was somebody or something in there and the fact that I didn't know who or what it was, had me completely horrified. I just wanted to get far away from that motel.

Slowly, I awoke to see looming trees all around me, bending over me, watching. Listening. They heard the screams, they heard my screams, I was still screaming. I clamped a trembling hand down over my mouth to only realize it was closed, my lips rolled in. And then thick as velvet. The blood pooled.

I took a moment to absorb my surroundings. An unbearable silence occupied the room. The only thing that could be heard was dripping coming from a leak in the roof that streamed down onto a puddle on the floor. This place has become unbearable, and it’s starting to get extremely strenuous surviving here, but escape would be impossible. The last person who accompanied me in this place always talked about it, he would spend restless nights obsessing over every inch of the tiny room. Taking down notes and measurements on a scrap of toilet paper, using a pencil he had managed to sneak in past the initial weapons check. He thought he had it all figured out. On the third night I awoke to a part of the wall missing, my cellmate was gone but outside I could hear shouting and gunshots. Quickly I gathered this was the night all his planning had lead up to. Unfortunately he had underestimated the capability of our captors, and that was the last I saw of him. I spend my time sitting in the corner of the room alternating from wondering if I will be set free, or just killed. I know too much now, seen too much. I’m nothing but a loose end to these people, they have no reason to keep me alive. If I was released…what then? Could I really face going home, could I live with what I have done? All those lives lost because of my incompetence. Good

He was unrelenting in his opposition but I was inebriated and stubborn, I would not be told what I could do. We made way to his vault, when the brisk chill hit me. It was damp as he had said but it was nothing to be frightful of, but as we descended deeper the color in my skin had turned into a bleak pallor and the cough had taken my lungs.

I look up towards the sky and see dark clouds rolling across the sky towards the west where the sounds of gunfire could be heard off in the distance. I look around the cramped bunkhouse and see the other prisoners. The bunkhouse is cold and smells of rotting flesh and human waste. The beds are made of cheap wood and thin cloth with some hay for a mattress. The guards walk in and start telling people to wake up. I slowly get out of my wooden bed out onto the muddy floor. My feet feel cold as they touch onto the earth below. My hands start to hurt from the cuts covering them when I try and get up. I see a man refusing to get out of his bunk near the entrance of the bunkhouse. The guards saw him refusing to follow their orders and dragged

Scuttling innocently through the twisting corridors I bore the same expression; head down, shoulders hunched, avoiding any eye contact - my desperate attempts to deter the despot for one day at least. Despite my efforts, there was no escape, as seemingly within the second of having that naively optimistic thought, a cruel, callous voice demanded I surrender my broach. Fear spiked, as it always did, but with it came something else, an alien emotion ... Looking back now, I see that it must have been the cumulative effect of months of torment that brought me to the realisation that at this point I had reached the nadir of my life. Deriding cackles pierced my ears and this time I recognised the emotion, fury. It burned through my veins, along with the memories of the past to form a feeling of overwhelming power. I met the daggers that would usually invoke terror, and calmly, I said “No.”

My breathing intensified as I heard his heavy foot steps on the creaky wooden stairs to the basement. I looked around panicking. I could practically see my breath in the stale cold air of the grungy dark basement. The floor was cold and made of concrete, walls made of brick, no windows to see out. The only furniture was a few dusty shelfs, a old mattress on the floor, and the chain attached to the handcuffs around my bruised wrist. Oh how bad they hurt.

It replayed over and over in my head. The screams and shouts echoing. They grew louder and louder, shoving me into the back corner, behind the old red rain coat, never worn. The floor was cold as ice, the room was so dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. My heart beat rapidly, louder and louder, as it beat out of my chest. What was I doing, why was I here? Let the noise stop, let them surrender.

I can’t believe they volunteered. I wonder if they are as uncertain as I am. I wonder if their fingers shake as they tighten the nine straps distributed over his body, completely immobilizing the man I know only as The Condemned. I don’t know what he’s done. I don’t know who he is. The letter held his name, but I have gone through some pains to drive it from my mind and have done an excellent job of keeping myself out of the loop. I know only that he has been called upon to die for his crimes, and that is all I want to know. It helps me keep my distance; having no knowledge of his conviction makes it easier for me to treat him as a job and easier for me to treat him as a man. I hope my hands will be steady when I push the needle through the

and saw her mom and sister, in their own bikinis. Smiling, she placed a handful of sun screen on her legs and rubbed it in, she continued up to her chest, neck, and face. Offering her sister, the bottle. Taking off her bikini top, she laid face forward, so her sister could place some lotion on her back, and places where she could not reach.

As I continued to walk further into the abyss of darkness, the neverending sound of dripping water didn’t seem to cease despite the fact that I had been traveling to the point my legs burned. The constant sound that had been following me for who knows long was honestly driving me to the brink, though what ticked me off the most was the fact that I was getting angered by something so harmless.

“Pablo… Pablo..” explained Elena as she tried to get his attention, though he continued to scroll his way on the small device as his face illuminated with shades of blue and white.