I

First chapter

The Witch Doctor

I awoke, my head screaming out before my eyes could prise themselves apart. With a feeling as though a thousand weights were pulling on my skull, I managed to adjust my senses and take in my surroundings; what would become the source of my pain for many months.

There were mirrors all around me, forming a dodecagon in which I could see myself reflected from all angles, creating the illusion of a much larger space.

My eyes focused on my form, and a gasp of utter bewilderment left me, the face staring back barely recognisable. Gaunt and hollow cheeks hung from empty eyes that could've been Hades' own, while my naked body was shaking from exhaustion, concave stomach turned inwards.

I was sat on a small wooden chair in the center of the room, a rusted chain around my left leg which was firmly rooted in the floor behind me. The only light was a bare bulb above my head, and before me was a great oak door, sanguine red with parts of the wood chipped away.

Attempting to lift my hands in a weak effort, I first noticed the straps suffocating my wrists tightly, the realisation of this bringing with it a wave of pain. God help me!

Presently I let my concentration wane, hanging my head forwards and breathing slowly; I would not let panic overcome me, knowing that this would surely do nothing to aid my diminished stamina. I stayed like this for several minutes, the silence around me amplifying every strained breath and every movement into an agonising crescendo.

I must think. If there is any chance of preparation for what is to come it is imperative that I remember. I tried to collect myself and bring myself back to the past with all my concentration, but there was only white. No clues as to where I was, or indeed why I should be the victim of such a hopeless circumstance. A dark dreadful feeling overwhelmed me, as I could not even remember my own name.

I sank into the chair, giving in to utter grief. What of those who brought me here? What could be their motives? and how long do I have before I am shown my fate.

Perhaps I am to be sold, simply one of many made into an object to be bought and bargained for, banded between buyers who wish to dress me in shame and make me their personal slave, prized possession. I would be no good to them like this, a pathetic shell where once strength may have made it's home. I could be under the hands of many, or one. The only thing I know with defiance is that any future that might lay before me should be a better place than here, unable to know the past and yet lacking the tools to guess a future, in a sick kind of limbo.

I checked myself and stopped my thoughts before they overtook me. I must be careful to conserve energy. I feel tired, although I have no way to know whether it is morning or evening. All I can do now is wait within this cold silence and hang my head. I want to try and sleep, anything to take me away from myself. I shut my eyes and try to breathe deeply, allowing my exhaustion to flood over my body. Several more minutes go by, and I am still very much awake, now with a frustration that grows when the mind has nothing to play with, slowly building to animal rage as I start to shake in my seat. My head feels hot and getting hotter, the heat feeding my will to see my captives burn, growing now in flashes as I writhe in my chair. I let out a scream of pure rage, wild and undignified as I watch myself in the mirror screaming back and shaking, wishing I could see the ones who put me here, give my aggression a face, my own formless existence constant, as I am here in this room forever, no past and no future, Mr. Nothing, simply a catalyst for hatred now.

I rocked harder and screamed louder, hoping my throat would break and tear so as to have inflicted damage upon something. Suddenly the chair fell over to the side and I landed hard on my left arm, the pain ending my tirade for just a moment, enough to fuel my frustration further, screaming out again.

I carried on until my voice became hoarse and only a whisper could be heard, my eyes clamped shut hard and the throbbing pain from my left side remaining my only external comfort, the anger I feel being all I have to call my own, the only thing that tells me I exist, that tells me I am.

My head dropped to the floor and I caught myself in the mirror, looking up at my eyes and watching the tears flowing from bruised sockets before collapsing into the welcome respite of darkness.

I awoke once again, this time my senses came back quicker and a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach was all that remained of the passion that drove me to unconsciousness.

I noticed that I had been repositioned back into the centre of the room again. Deciding to put my mind to good use, lest another fit take me, i should try and form some kind of plan. I looked down at the chain around my ankle and followed it with my eyes to the end of the link. Although rusty, there would be no way for me to break it, especially in my current condition. I gathered my strength, took a deep breath and tried to nudge my chair closer to the end of the chain, in order to get a better look. I pushed my feet off the floor and a screeching noise sounded as the chair skidded slightly across the floor, an inch closer to my destination. I pushed hard again but this time there was no movement, and I cried out and began to ventilate loudly and heavily, the exertion making my head dizzy. I let myself gather back my strength, pushed off the ground again, then as soon as the chair moved closer to my goal I pushed once again, and again once more. I had to pause, this time my legs were sweating under the strain. I looked through the mirror at the base of the chain behind me. I was much closer now, unsure of what I might do when I get there, only grateful to have a task to focus on and keep my mind occupied. I gave one last push and came right up to the base, stretching my neck to the left in order to see it behind me.

There was a rusty half circle shape protruding from the ground, almost like a brass handle on a door, and attached to this was the chain. As far as I could tell, there was no way to break the link, and certainly it would be an impossible task to pull it apart using brute force. I needed a tool.

I turned my head back to the door and stared at it with curiosity. It unnerved me greatly, seeming wholly out of place with the mirrors surrounding it, and the largeness! it stretched all the way up to the ceiling and was two doors wide, each one with a handle in the middle and a keyhole, undoubtedly locked tight. Perhaps if I could see through the hole, I just might be able to get an idea of where I am being kept. But the idea of coming nearer to the door was daunting, I imagined it to suck me in and keep me there amidst the red, my whole shallow existence becoming a part of the oak, a part of this room. I was still staring with wide eyes, my breath shallower now. It seemed to be mocking me, beckoning me to investigate further, for it to veil itself around me and take on the role of my protector.

It took me a while before I could shake myself from my illusions and focus once again. I had to try and reach the keyhole, my next objective clear to me.

And so I began to make my way back towards the door, as what would seem like no task at all to most would prove to be an almost insurmountable challenge to me. I had to focus all my energy on where I was and where I needed to be, working more as a means of distraction than as a means to an end.

I had reached the centre again, roughly a mere four feet away from where I was, although this had taken me what felt like an hour. There was no way of knowing however, so I resolved to go further. I pushed off the ground once more, edging closer to the door, clammy sweat now grasping my coarse skin. I was close now, surely just a couple more times would do it.

I pushed off the ground, but this time I was stopped before I could move forward. I turned around to look; the chain was pulled taut. This would be as far as I could reach. I looked around at the door and could almost see through the keyhole now, but I was not close enough to be able to distinguish anything other than darkness.

My longing to see through to that secret world beyond was stronger than the growling hunger in my stomach, for the desire to know anything other than these twelve walls was supreme. I was constantly surrounded by my own figure, and this would be all I could see reflected in every direction, for what seemed like miles around, with every movement echoed a thousand times. Mr. Nothing and his blank, hopeless face looking back at me, judging me from all corners.

Now this great door was also taunting me, my obstacle merely inches away and freedom on the other side. Nothing can compare with the grief I felt then, my whole life as I knew it a cage, with nothing to keep me occupied and nothing to keep me focused except a dire hopelessness and Mr. Nothing plastered on the walls.

I digressed, and slumped in my chair. If my captors had repositioned me when I fell, this means they would visit me again, and perhaps I would have a chance to see them, if only I could keep myself awake and alert for long enough. But time in this place is not a measurement, but simply a concept which anchors me to my frustration, and every second may as well be a lifetime.

I must stay awake...I must stay awake...I must stay awake. I repeated this mantra in my head, eyes wide open and facing the door ahead of me, my body shaking once again with the intensity of my own pressure. I must stay awake...I must stay awake...I must stay awake. Now I had to shake myself to remain upright, the effort increasing. Must stay awake...Must stay awake...Stay awake. My head rolled forwards, and with my eyes still open I could hear footsteps approaching from behind the door. MUST STAY AWAKE...MUST STAY AWAKE...STAY AWAKE. My mantra's volume had now risen to a scream in my head as the footsteps became louder. STAY AWAKE...Stay awake...Stay...

I woke up. I was back in the centre of the room. It took me a few moments before I remembered what had happened, and I realised that I must have fallen into unconsciousness seconds before my captive had entered. I cursed myself for this foolish slip. But now I knew that I could wait, I knew that there was someone out there, and that I must prepare myself and stay awake to greet them.

If I meet them, I could convince them to let me go, perhaps find out if there are others, anything for an opportunity to get out of this living hell.

And so the wait began. This time I was adamant that I would remain unencumbered by doziness, that I would stay sharp. As time passed, my breathing was the only thing I could measure and count, so I focused on this, and also on slowing down my breath in order to conserve the oxygen in the room. 566, 567, 568.

My gaze wondered up to Mr. Nothing, his disinterested features gazing back. I thought of his family, (if he had one) his home, where he came from...

"Who are you?" the words startled me, as they were the first I had heard since before I could remember, and indeed the first time I had heard myself speak. The sound was somewhat comforting, but a false comfort, one which made me feel less alone...which was dangerous. I could not allow myself to become attached to such fancies if I wanted to make it out of this place with my mind intact.

I brought my attention away from these thoughts, and continued to count my breaths. 569, 570, 571, 572. In out, in out, in out, in out.

I was scared. Scared of what was to come, and terrified that I knew nothing but this tiny room. I could not recall who I was. My entire life up to the present moment has been this room,

although I know that there must have been a man with a life before this. Mr. Nothing resurfaces in my mind again and this time I let my thoughts stray, letting go of any hesitation as I recreate my own life.

I see a beautiful bride on my arm, Mr. Nothing's wedding day. There are people crowding around to congratulate us, their faces beaming with all the happiness in the world, wishing me and my bride good fortune. Their kind words are true and pure, seeming to come from a place deep in their humble souls. We thank them gratefully, Mr. Nothing giving a short bow and smiling back at them. My bride holds my arm as we walk towards our wedding car, the bright blue sky above us reflecting our bright love for each other. As I help my wife into her seat I turn and give my dear friends and family one final wave, blowing a kiss before joining my love. We make our getaway and drive past golden fields that reek of freedom, the bells of a church chiming in unison with our chiming hearts.

I bring myself back to reality and see that Mr. Nothing is crying in the mirror. My stomach feels tight and I cannot bear to bring myself back to the scene, such a perfect world is beyond my comprehension.

I focus on my breathing. 573, 574, 575.

Another span of time passes, I am struggling slightly now, onto my 700th breath, with no idea how much time has passed since I started to count. The effects of being alone for so long are beginning to come clear now, as the walls seem to be breathing slightly, expanding as I breathe out, warping inwards as I breathe in. Mr. Nothing's face is frightening now, it seems to change with every glance, melting like a waxwork figure and taking on form after form. The only way to stop my mind from becoming my worst enemy would be to sleep, and I knew this, although I was reluctant to give in. If I could only wait for more time, I could meet whoever was responsible for my condition and from there...well, I would have to wait and see.

I realised that there was a chance they could be watching me, that they could somehow know when I was conscious or not, and that they were waiting for me to fall asleep before approaching. Maybe there are hidden cameras, although I do not see how they could be hidden in a room like this. More likely that the mirrors themselves are one-sided, and they are merely a few feet from me now, hands behind their backs as they bide their time.

And Oh! how they must eat! they would gorge themselves fat on pies and tarts, honey dripping from their fingers, grinning as they laugh at the state of poor Mr. Nothing and his poor empty stomach.

Once my thoughts turned to food, they would not stop, and nothing in this world could satiate that hunger. I would have eaten a million loaves of bread, filled myself up til I was sick. I thought of delving deep into the ocean, an enormous great whale with my massive jaw widening to swallow a shoal of desperate fish, tasting their scaly bodies as one autonomous gulp sends them down my passage to be broken down, broken down into energy.

I was drooling, dribbling onto the floor with my mouth wide open, the emptiness of my stomach a demanding toll to take.

Sleep came again to collect me, but it did not come softly this time. Instead it hit me hard and I fell instantly into a deep darkness.