Break Free

A heavy foot kicked a side of my waist, and I descended down to the scratchy ground on my knees, enduring excruciating pain. Someone grabbed my hair and violently pulled my head. I screamed in abrupt force. They dragged me along, and I just helplessly cried and groaned.

Awhile after, they pushed me down into the now-calm lake, headfirst. Coldness enveloped me as my head resurfaced from the abyss, and I involuntarily breathed in salty water. It stung my eyes and nose. Someone grabbed my arms to keep me motionless. It had hundreds of little sharp furs pressing down my skin. Another, resembling a shrimp, brushed my skin with a slimy green substance.

I couldn't believe myself. Fear coursed through my veins like another stream of blood. It felt like an eternity, this procession, as if I had slept and awakened, yet they were still cleaning my naked body. I was entirely shaking, from everything, including those men from the other side and their deadly stares. It felt like hell, a punishment for sins I believed I deserved.

Endless shouts echoed everywhere, accompanied by noises and chaos swirling through this supposed paradise.

Where was I really? What was this place? Why did they look like that? Was I still on Earth? More importantly, was I still alive? Maybe this was the underworld. Perhaps there was no such place as heaven. I didn't know anything anymore. I had been kind, after all, been trying to be kind despite the world's cruelty. There were far worse people out there. Why me, of all people? I only wished to love and be loved. Was that even too much to ask for someone like me?

I was not aware anymore of what followed. It was like a forgotten dream, all that had happened to me. I clung to the hope, though slim, that I would soon wake up. Or that someone would rouse me, and all these profound encounters would be nothing but strange remembrances.

Unfortunately, it never came. Events unfolded rapidly, and I couldn't catch up anymore. They dressed me in a white dress and forcefully shoved me into a small, dust-filled prison underground.

My current asylum resembled a birdcage, filled with rusty, blackened bars. I was alone, with only silence and darkness as my companions. Through the gaps, I could see other occupied cells and hear sobs and prayers and eternal silences. I sat in the farthest corner, hugging my knees against my throbbing chest. Hunger and thirst were trivial compared to my current state of being. I thought I was already more than death.

The two prison keepers, resembling brown bears dressed in heavy armor, spoke nearby. They were preoccupied at first by good news until they reached my small chamber and realized, upon seeing who I was, that there was someone here alien to them.

One of them looked closer, its black glass eyes staring at me, while the other sniffed with his snouts.

"A human?" said the former, unable to believe what he was seeing. I tightened myself, embracing against the uncertainty.

"Why is there a human here?" the latter questioned the former.

They were silent for a long while, the answer unbeknownst to both of them, so as to me. 

Soon, through murmurs and whispers, it spread like a wildfire and other guards went to my enclosure to confirm, with their own keen eyes, the truth of the rumors. They were anticipating something, it seemed. 

For some strange reason, my body shivered. Instinct and gut told me that I was in a serious and immediate danger.

I cleared my throat and looked away. My hunger reverberated though the bars and into the endless passages. 

"I heard it was from Percival's cohort," someone informed.

Whispers resumed. They remained staring at me, treating me like an extraterrestrial being, when, in fact, they were the ones not from this world, at least not from the Earth I had known for decades. Their faces, unrecognizable and strange, displayed intense curiosity.

"Young and enticing blood," one of them remarked. "King Zachariel would certainly love this."

"And pure, I assume."

Their subsequent laughters echoed around the expansive dungeon. Duty called, and eventually, they dispersed toward their respective responsibilities. One stayed, my official sentry, his pinkish face resembling an octopus, marred with sucking tentacles.

Without a window, it was impossible to speculate how much time had passed. Darkness arrived and torches were lit, and an urgent call for guards provided a brief opportunity to consider escape. Yet, it proved hopeless and futile—the bars were made of unbreakable materials, and the ground and the ceiling, unbreakable stones.

I lay against the ground, staring absentmindedly at the flat ceiling, occasional dust settling on my face. My body felt so soft that I could barely scratch anything around. I fancied a thought. If I were born into this world, I would've wanted to be a bird, of any kind. As long as I could fly, I felt like I could possess the lands, the skies, the stars, and beyond.

With nothing else to do anyway but stay, my mind roamed freely. I recollected past issues, pondered my present predicament, until I reached the promises of the future. Guards occasionally passed by, and most of what I heard were no more than two things: auction and King Zachariel.

It seemed time had finally left me behind. I remained in denial of this reality, even though I had slept and awakened numerous times, only to be greeted by silence, dust, and my persistent hunger. I resorted to pretension, imagining an alternative life. I kept wishing, praying, imagining, but all seemed nonsensical.

Days had likely passed, judging by the number of meals I had endured. At least, they cared for our survival for the meantime. But they were barely edible—slimy, bitter, or challenging to chew. I found solace in water, as it was the only thing I could consume. I thought, for how long could a human live with solely water?

Suddenly, the ground rumbled. I stood with apprehension, balancing my feet to avoid falling. I had overheard the guards mentioning that we would be delivered somewhere else, as the much-awaited occasion was soon to begin. My imagination ran wild, from scenarios of human flesh harvesting to the possibility of a lifetime as a slave.

The rumbling persisted from morning to night, and as a result, I had vomited at least three times. I learned through my own sentry that we had reached the venue where the gathering would be held without us walking at all.

"But how?" I asked, but he never responded to any of my questions.

"In no time," he just told me, and left. 

Weeks soon passed by like a stranger, and I became familiar with every corner of my cell. The quite soft bed made of feathers, and the barriers, that was all. I had also built rapport with my sentry, although our conversations never extended beyond simple greetings during meal deliveries or when I had to discharge my bodily wastes.

One moment, he said to me as we returned from my daily release, "It's futile, your attempt to escape."

I never told him this, of course. I had been so careless with observing the place discreetly. "It's the attempt," I answered. "That's all."

He never talked to me again after that. 

I had already gotten used to these creatures' weird faces because I had no choice but to deal with them anyway—their stares, their prejudices, and all.

At least, the fruit-bearing trees in this world were somewhat sweet and nourishing. I felt like I had gained a few muscles during my weeks of working out, using my own weight as resistance. With not many stimulants around, I entertained myself to avoid falling into insanity. I missed the sun, the sea, Elizabeth, Uncle Thomas, and Auntie Sarah.

How long, I wondered, would I stay in this filthy place?

Days later, as I changed into a fresh dress, the metallic bars finally opened. The whispers were noticeable, and the gossip centered around the paramount importance of this event at daybreak. Everyone's faces were expectant, but mine held only nervousness.

Was this the day of my beheading? I couldn't wait. 

Nevertheless, I must escape, or die by escaping. All these signs seemed to lead to my imminent doom. Whatever it was they were all waiting for, I couldn't care less anymore.

That very evening, I was fed the best meal I had ever had. It was imported, they simply said. They told me, along with my hopeless fellows, to eat as much as we could. I did. I needed all this for the strategic plan I had made.

It was time to rest. The same creatures from before had me bathed and dressed in a new white dress. Along with the guards, we walked toward our respective confinements. They were busy chatting with each other, discussing their promotions after the magnificent ceremony tomorrow. Suddenly, along the way, a flash of light filled my vision. I composed myself.

Nearby, there was an arched window, that gateway of hope. I tested the chains secured around my wrists. I certainly couldn't break them, so I brought them along with me. The metals clanged like bells as I ran as fast as I could towards the awaiting moonlight.

The chamber roared as other fellow prisoners of myriad origins also attempted to break free. The guards were no longer sure who to follow. We outnumbered them.

Who wouldn't want freedom, anyway? This was my last chance, my ticket to liberty, my escape toward new beginnings. With all I had left, I gripped the sill, pushing myself up with my bare feet against the wall. There was a noise, a breaking of barriers somewhere. The sound was paralyzing. But my will triumphed, and without hesitation, I leapt out into the evening air, soaring across the dark sky, oblivious to what awaited me below, and beyond.