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A young woman entrapped in a dark cell, longing for freedom and a means of escape before her she is overcome by insanity.

Chapter 1

Aurora

I have never been embraced by the warmth of the sun. Light has never touched my skin or soul, and I yearn for daylight. 

I've dreamt of her, though. My sunlight. My savior. She calls to me in my deepest slumber. She comes to tell me to hold on for just a little longer. That someday, I will swim in the skies and breathe into air that is fresh and safe for my lungs to inhale. No toxins of evil exist in the world that she has created for me.

I am unsure if I am sane�"if I have ever been sane. Was I born mad? Or was it them who made me like this? The ones who took me. The ones who dissected my mind and infested my thoughts, stealing my memories of who I was before… before what? I can't remember. Surely, I was someone. I just can’t recall. I've been held underground in this dungeon for so long… so, so long.

My back rests against the solid stone. The small confines they entrapped me in are infested with overgrown roots and vines. There’s a mosaic of sketches on every square inch of this cell. I spend most of my time drawing out what I see in my dreams, permanently marking my memories so I won’t forget a single detail. Chalk is easy to find down here�"limestone. White, rough lines scribbled into nonsense, some spots blended with my dark blood. The doctors always do a sloppy job of patching me up.

I ran out of canvas space a while ago, so I had to resort to overlapping, which created a blurred, sporadic mess that only I could understand. I see it all. I see the rising sun hovering above the figure of a woman. She stands tall and glorious, while beneath her are the demons who claw and scream and kill their way to get to her. But they never reach her. She is unscathed by their cruel intentions. She is the epitome of victory and the savior of her people. She is the one I see. She is the one who I dream of to save me from drowning from my very own demons.

Water tends to leak through the crevices every now and then. There's a puddle sitting in front of my feet, melting away some of the chalk. My toes are a safe distance from it.

The drip drip drip from the ceiling rings in my ear. I stare at the puddle blankly. That very puddle almost killed me once. I drank the foggy liquid out of desperation and dehydration, and I became deathly ill. It took weeks to recover. My already empty stomach suffered greatly. Fortunately, the doctors fed me just enough to keep me alive so they could continue experimenting on me as their little plaything. 

I thought I was certainly going to die that time. I have had many close encounters with death. For some odd reason it has never found an interest in me�"yet.

The taste of salty water still prickles my mouth every now and then, and my stomach churns when recalling that horrid memory.

I bend over to look into the puddle. I see a reflection of a stranger. Of someone I've never met before. 

It's a girl. She has soft, milky skin touched by a drop of sun, long waves of silky golden hair brushed to perfection, and wide, youthful eyes that resemble the transition of spring to summer, warm and full of life. I forget what seasons look or feel like, but that's how I imagine them to be.

I wonder who this girl is. I wonder if she ever had a family. If there were people in her life who treated her like she was the center of their world. If there were people out there who loved her. If there are people out there looking for her. Or if she was tossed out and disowned by the people she trusted most.

My attention snaps back into reality as the iron gates clash open from down the hallway. The sounds of clattering keys and heavy boots become louder and more prominent with each step they take.

Every day, like clockwork, the doctors come to fetch me from my cell. I suppose it's been twenty-four hours already. My torso is still recovering from yesterday; the stitches have barely healed. Another pale scar to mark my body, another countless reminder that I am only an object to them�"not a person. 

The dim blue lantern glows, reflecting against the glossy stone as they walk through the inky dark halls. My head throbs each time I look at it. I don't think my eyes would ever be able to adjust to light. I wonder if I’ll even live long enough to see the sun, only if it be for just a moment till it blinds me.

I exhale, and my lungs rattle. No matter how many times I try to prepare myself for what's to come, it's never enough. 

The shadows of four figures stand in front of my cell door, which is made of simple metal bars but impenetrable without the key. I watch them insert the key�"the object of my salvation and a far reach from my unobtainable freedom�"and twist it open. The slow, heavy door groans, opening my gateway to another day of torment. 

They are always dressed in all white, from head to toe. Two of the doctors step forward to secure my restraints. They force me up from the ground, digging their gloved fingers into my arms.

Please, please take me somewhere else�"anywhere but here. I beg that the separation from my mind to body eases my suffering, but it never lasts long enough to distract me from the pain.

Think about something, Aurora, anything that could take us away from here. My thoughts race as I try to find that place of peace. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut. My mind drifts away at each step I take, disconnecting me from my physical self. My bare feet no longer feel the rough gravel digging into my toes. The itchy cloth of this filthy nightgown, irritating my skin, lessens. I breathe deeply. 

Inhale and exhale.

I see a garden of light. This oasis, this haven that I've dreamed of every time I close my eyes and slip away from my living hell. It’s real. It has to be real, and I have to find it. I have to find her. 

The four masked doctors guide me through the maze of tunnels. Each turn, I’ve memorized by heart. Ten steps from my cell, take a right�"forty paces ahead, and then another right. Two lefts till you reach the end of the hall, and we arrive at my doom�"I mean, the room. 

The White Room.

This suffocating enclosure consists of four walls and blinding white concrete. This is the only time where I am taken out of darkness and overwhelmed with this hideous feeling of insanity. This room is cold, heartless, and unsettling, and I hate it. 

In the center is a metal table, restraints bolted onto each corner.

I climb onto the surface, the cold metal stinging my exposed skin. My eyes look up, then down�"my bound wrists and ankles have me sprawled out like a piece of livestock, inspecting which part of me is the richest of meat to sell.

I used to fight back in the beginning. I’d thrash and scream and resist them at every chance I got. I was strong for a child. But my relentless disobedience only made my punishments harsher. They broke me down and healed me, only to torture me again. They knew that I wouldn’t survive continuous torture at such a young age. So they fed me full meals and gave me enough nutrients until I was strong enough to be dissected again. That all ended as soon as I grew older. Now, I have to pray that a meal and fresh water will still appear before me. 

Although my prayers aren’t always answered.

I keep my eyes shut�"the artificial light is too painful to look at.

The buzzing of the saw vibrates as its razor-sharp teeth cut through my skin and into the side of my rib. I black out within seconds from the excruciating pain as darkness once again swallows me whole. 

It's never enough�"never… more, they always want more…

Author's Note

A dark, twisted story idea I had. This is the first chapter.
Is it any good? Should I keep writing it and continue the story?

Reviews

[SunnyTan]

It's exceptionally engaging. I found myself unable to put it down.

[Isabelle S.]

Thank You!