Darkness is heavy. It covers everything like a quilt, snuffing out hope the same way those special fire blankets smother flames. I feel that heaviness now more than I ever have in my life. My eyes see nothing, the dark is so immense and invasive. I can’t even tell if my eyes are open or closed, but I am too terrified to test this by waving a hand in front of my face. I crouch silently with the solid cold stone against my back. Any movement now may give away my position, and that would be the end. In the silent pitch black, my heartbeat sounds so loud, and every tiny shaky intake of breath might as well be a siren cutting through the thick air. I have been afraid before, but this terror I feel now is ice cold. And I never realized how much I rely on my sight. Not having this one sense seems like a much bigger piece than one of five. To get away from the crushing weight of the darkness, I turn inward, ignoring the blood I can feel cutting a track down the side of my face.
Maybe it’s the absence of light that makes me feel my future slipping away. I am going to die here, I’m almost sure of it. The things I’ve experienced over the last few days would make the most stable person question reality, and considering, well, everything, I’m not entirely confident that I was sane to begin with. It’s hard not to feel crazy when your inner voice is everything you hate. I don’t know when I learned to separate her from myself, to lump all of those undesirable traits together and shove them into the back of my brain. There’s a glaringly obvious answer to that question, but now is not the time to open that particular can of worms. I guess if I live long enough, I can explore those thoughts. Maybe I can get rid of her once and for all, or at least get better at shutting her up. I don’t trust that voice, especially now. It’s hard to not trust a piece of yourself and get away with that unscathed, regardless of the other unbelievable events I’ve experienced. A sudden cramp grips my calf and I stifle the groan that threatens to slip through my lips, ignoring the urge to unknot the muscle with my fingers. The sharp pain brings me back to awareness of my surroundings. I listen for any hint of the hunter, feeling the surge of adrenaline take over my body once again. I’ll be ready, to either flee or fight, when the time comes.