Are You Afraid?

Are You Afraid?

 

It’s around mid-July and in similarity to the previous weeks of summer that I have spent lazing around with friends, I am with Drae, my best friend since we were 8 years of age. Now, normally, our conversations consist of boys, make-up or clothes, you know, the typical girl talk. Though today, however something has come over her. A darker side I have never seen very much of. The topic today? Fear, death and danger. Even I can recognize the contrast here. “River?” she asks tentatively.

“Yeah?” Her tone has already stirred anxiety within me.

“Have you ever- have you ever felt so utterly alone that anything that meant something to you becomes worthless? And no matter how hard you tried or how desperate you were, you just couldn’t find any optimism? You resented anyone that ever told you to ‘look on the bright side’?”

“Uh no…” I reply in a small voice.

 

    I’m now understand this feeling. Though I have no recollection of how I reached this catastrophic mental state. In fact, I don’t even remember how I arrived where I am physically. This concept alone scares the hell out of me. I always know where I am. Don’t ask me how, I just do. Half of the time I have never even been to the place yet I can name it. This is something my mother always called my ‘gift’, a sixth sense, for those of us who believe. She repeatedly maintained that I’m ‘blessed’ to have received it. She was constantly telling everyone her theories of how there are silent forces at work in the world. Everything happened for a reason, she said.

     Her biggest fear was the dreaded ‘Karma’. That woman spoke of Karma they way the Good Lord would speak of the Devil. Convinced, she was, that any bad deed a person committed would come back to reap its revenge on them tenfold.

     Which begs the question: What formidable action have I carried out for me to end up here, in what instinctively feels worse than the most stereotypical Hell? The oppressive malodour of decayed flesh and raw unbridled fear tears through my nostrils and down on its way to my lungs as it savagely claws at the insides of my throat. This stench has only one intention: to brutally asphyxiate me.

     To describe such a foul odour is like trying to explain colour to a blind person. It is essentially impossible. There is neither a strong enough word nor phrase to express how nauseating it is. However, akin to an abrupt blow to the stomach I realise that it is not the scent of death or fear that weighs down so heavily upon me. No, it is the strange yet so overwhelmingly instinctive awareness that I am being watched. By watched, I do not mean in a protective manner. It’s not long until the alarm signals in my brain kick in, urging me to flee such a perilous situation.

     If whoever this person is brought me here then they undoubtedly know the place very well. This means there is already an advantage on their side. It’s possible they could be armed so let’s raise that to two advantages. As farfetched as it may sound, they could have night vision technology as there is no light what-so-ever; this takes them up to three advantages. Now for where I stand, my advantages. I begin patting myself down checking for any pockets on my clothing. In the back pocket of my jeans I manage to find a few bobby pins. What could I use those for? I also find a lighter (well, that solves the light issue I guess), and a key.

    In all severity now, I have a lighter a little self-defence to save me. Perhaps my smarts but I’m not so sure how well I will cope alone and under pressure alone and in the dark.

     Deciding to get a move on I return everything to my pocket, ignite the lighter and make a start down the precarious long tunnel. I do my best to catch sight of an escape. However, after having walked for what feels like well over ten minutes the realisation that there probably isn’t one sets in.

     There has to be a way out! I continue walking, dragging my feet in a bid to mask the deafening silence closing in around me.

     Out of nowhere a slight gust of wind nips at my ankles and breathes desperate pleas of warning in my ear. An exit! Could this be my escape route? With this sliver of hope I commit myself to pursuing the direction that the breeze hit me from.

    After wasting over twenty minutes aimlessly grabbing at air I eventually find that the breeze was emanating from a machine.

     “Air con! Are you kidding me?” My cry claws at my own ears in the eerie quiescence let alone anyone else’s. My stupidity at actually thinking that an escape would be so easy to find kindles the intense flames of rage within me.

     With a sigh I gather my sanity and begin walking again. The dead road to nowhere. The result? Possibly get watched in the dark for the rest of my life. Sounds fun. Don’t you think? I certainly do not.

     It’s starting to feel like each step I take is a waste of time. I’m not getting any closer to an exit. I can’t even see my hand before my face; the only noise is my shoes on what I presume to be concrete. Though I can’t be sure.

     Without warning, something grazes my face. In shock I quickly move away from the contact and collide with a wall. Almost hyperventilating, I clench my eyes shut as if it will block out any harm. My repressed fear now tearing through my veins.

     Stop this River! Stop it right now! It was probably just a bug or something. Who am I kidding? That was no bug...

    A hand perhaps? No, not a hand, that’s nonsense!

     A tug on my t-shirt causes the trepidation of all my worst nightmares to erupt into life and grasp me in a choke hold so powerful that my breathing comes in short uneven gasps. I was right; it was definitely a hand. A bug couldn’t grab my t-shirt!

     “Psst....River,” He taunts, “are you scared?”

     His manic laughter sends an ice cold tremor through my bones.

     “What do you think of the lighting? Dramatic, is it not?” He snarls. The sound of his voice echoes off each wall.

     I close my arms around my chest in a barren attempt to remain level headed and not scream.

     “I wonder, are you bright enough to figure out who I am?” He laughs at the awful pun.

     “D’you get it? Bright enough? Clearly not...well that’s no fun...”

     “What do you want from me?!” My outburst, a shakier, less confident version than the intended.

     With a distant click several lights awaken from their controlled slumber to blind me. Momentarily stunned it takes a few extra seconds to officially see Him.

     My scream is a shiver down my spine as I realise who is standing before me.

     “You... Why? I never...” I am unable to complete my sentence.

     “What do you want?” I repeat. My voice a faint echo of defeat.

     “You.”