Trapped
in this dark, dank room, I try to not give up hope for my survival. The black
abyss surrounding me is so thick that I can’t even see an inch away from my
face. Having my eyesight impaired, the tiny buds of fear begin to bloom in my
chest.
My
back is pressed against a cold, hard wall that sends shivers slithering up it. Blood oozes from my bound wrists and ankles. My toes and fingers have
gone numb and they feel like icicles ready to fall off my limbs.
A
distant pitter-patter of rain acts as my clock to gauge the slowly passing
minutes. A puddle inches its way to caress my bound feet, but it continues to
grow. The newly soaked pieces of my clothes seem to freeze against me.
Uncontrollable shivers take over.
Warmth
suddenly slips down my cheeks and I realize my plight has reduced me to tears,
which only worsens my shaking. Fear for my life now burns in my veins and I let
the blessed hope dissolve into the impenetrable darkness around me.
For
the first time, I remember there is no one to come and save me. I pushed them
all away, told them I never wanted to see their faces again.
With
my death steadily approaching, I realize just how alone and vulnerable I truly
am.
No comments:
Post a Comment