Prompt: The Darkest Light (06/24/08)

This is actually my absolutely favorite one. Note, the room 101 is a somewhat off reference to 1984. I didn't have time to research and make sure that was the number, remember I had fifteen minutes to pound out as many words as I could.
This is also my longest one. I got 926 words in 15 minutes!!
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(June 24 ’08)

Prompt: The Darkest light

Time: 15 min.

Words: 926

My cell was dank, and it smelled. It smelled quite bad, to tell the truth. Fortunately, I got used to the smell after awhile; being in one place for a long time can do that to you. I had even gotten use to the food, or lack there of I should say. What I could never get used to was the darkness. Every night, when the dim gray light outside of my cell vanished, I curled up in a small ball, counting the minutes until it came back. It became the bane of my existence, this light. It filtered through the barred window, all three inches of it, which cut through my wall, near the ceiling, too far up for me to even touch. Even so, the light from what I presumed to be a hallway outside of my cell, gave me some touch of ungodly hope.

Hope that shouldn’t exist in these types of situations. Hope that perhaps they wouldn’t take me to what I had dubbed as room 101. I’m not entirely sure why I called it room 101, perhaps my mind was groping for an earlier time, a time where I read books, a time where no stress existed. A time so early that it was beginning to vanish, the memories stolen by the darkness of my surroundings. I hated this, and fought it savagely, each day making it a goal to relive some memory, so dusty it was nigh forgotten, to remind me that there was life besides this.

Life besides my cell seemed pretty unlikely, and I was wont to simply throw the idea, the hope out. The only reason I did not do this was that the memories were my only light in this place, the only real one anyway. That’s why I liked the grey, smoggy light so much; it was the embodiment of my hope. I’m sure they didn’t know, I’m sure that I hadn’t given it away one trip to 101. I was sure because the light was still there. If I had told them, they would have done everything to take away any shred of hope that I processed.

There was a rattling outside my cell or cage as I liked to think of it, and I perked up, slowly pushing myself into a sitting position. My arms hurt strangely, and I looked down, surprised when I saw the skin had been tattooed from wrist to shoulder by bruises. More than surprised I was scared. Scared that I didn’t remember when that had happened scared that I was losing my soul and mind here.

That is what they wanted, after all. They wanted you to become soulless, to lose any reason for your existence, to make you want to end it all. What they were so scared of was people like me. People who were still alive, their spirit not completely broken.

Yet.

A small flap opened, and a dingy tray was thrown in, the contents splayed out against the grimy floor. Quickly, I leapt forward, rescuing the crust of bread and watery soup like thing the best I could. It was rare to get food, and I could lose none. Not if I wanted to survive, that is.

I knew that I should save the food, and I put half the bit of stale bread back on the tray for latter. The rest, though, I lost self-control and devoured on spot. I hadn’t eaten in who knows how long, time was nonexistent here, my days controlled by the flow of dim light through the bars. What I did know, though, was that it had been awhile since my last ‘meal’. Long enough for me to feel weaker than usual, long enough to make the walk, no more than a few steps, from wall to wall hard.

I had long ago ceased in feeling real ‘hunger’. The want had become nothing more than background, blending in with my environment. I could not remember a time when I did not feel this hungry, no matter how hard I tried.

I could remember people, faces, but everything was started to blur. My memory would not last much longer, and I would soon know nothing but my cell and time here.

That’s what they wanted, really. I fought against them with every fiber of my being, but it was no use. They were strong.

There was a larger rattling on my wall, and I let lose a small yelp, knowing what was going to happen. My body began to shake as I watched the door open, invisible until it moved. A man, clothed in dark clothing with a hood over his face bent down, wrenching me from my spot. I cried out, but suddenly began silent as he drug me down the hall. I never remembered much of this hall, oddly, my memory blank with the fear of the impending pain.

He stopped suddenly, and tossed me into a concrete cell, much like my own. Another man was already waiting there, and a plain table stood in the middle.

“Please…” My voice was horse from lack of use, and my pitiful plea wrung my heart. I hadn’t always been like this, you know. Hadn’t always been willing to do anything to save myself from the pain. Time here had changed me, though. And not for the better.

I brought up my hands in a futile effort to protect myself as the blows started to pour on me, pounding my mind until it retreated into the darkness once again.