Cellmate and his friends

My feet dragged wearily across the uneven and rough floor, the jagged edges scraping against my soles with each laborious step. Two pairs of strong hands firmly grasped my armpits, their grip unyielding as they guided me along a dimly lit corridor. The air hung heavy with the scent of must and decay, and the sound of our footsteps echoed ominously, as if the very walls were whispering secrets.

I attempted to form words, to vocalize my thoughts and plead for answers, but my tongue felt as though it had been coated in numbing ice, rendering me mute. Only a feeble and barely audible moan escaped my parched lips, but it seemed that my guides were indifferent to my plight, their focus solely on their determined path.

My eyelids grew heavy, the weight of exhaustion settling upon them like a suffocating blanket. My body ached with weariness, and hunger gnawed at my insides, a constant reminder of the neglect it had endured. Consciousness struggled to awaken, but my body rebelled, refusing to heed its call. Impulses flickered within my mind, desperate to ignite, only to sputter out into darkness. Some primal instinct seemed to understand that surrendering to this numbness was the path of least resistance, and I acquiesced.

A new sound pierced the fog of my fading awareness—a metallic clang followed by the creak of an iron door. In a sudden jolt, I felt my body lifted off the ground, only to be unceremoniously deposited into a new space. The room, though still dimly lit, held a slightly brighter ambiance, and a tall and broad figure sat upon the bed. As the door slammed shut, the footsteps retreated into the distance.

"Lyon?" a warm, slightly agitated voice called out, carrying a sense of familiarity. The figure rose from the bed, closing the distance between us, leaning in with a mixture of anticipation and concern. "March, is that you?"

I struggled to sit up, my trembling hands betraying my weakened state. A comforting hand gently rested upon my shoulder, and a surge of energy coursed through my veins, infusing my limbs with renewed strength. With effort, I managed to steady myself and sit upright.

"March... it's you," he exclaimed, his voice growing more animated, his eyes widening with recognition and relief.

At last, I could fully see him, my vision sharpening to reveal a bald head, large expressive eyes, and a magnificent mustache adorning his face. His arms, long and muscular, bore the imprints of strength, yet there was a softness to his countenance that radiated warmth and kindness.

That warmth and kindness stirred memories within me, fragmented flashes of battles fought and narrow escapes. I had been on the brink of death, and he had come to my rescue.

"April..." I stammered, my voice trailing off in shock and disbelief.

My memory, like a hesitant traveler, began to navigate the labyrinth of recollection, revealing fragments of a past that overwhelmed me with its magnitude.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember much," I confessed, guilt coloring my words as I met the gaze of my apparent friend.

His expression shifted from relief to a flicker of fear, then settled into deep concern. He nervously fiddled with the edge of his mustache, pacing the room in restless contemplation.

"Now I understand why you were gone for so long," he mused, exhaling heavily. "First and foremost, you need rest. In about three hours, the doors will open, and in your current state, it's best not to be seen."

A deluge of questions flooded my mind, each clamoring for attention, but my weary body lacked the strength to voice them. All I craved in that moment was respite, to surrender myself to the embrace of a soft surface. April, sensing my exhaustion, approached me with empathy and support. With gentle determination, he reached out, clasping my arm to help me to my feet. His unwavering strength carried me as I stumbled toward the bed, its modest comfort a luxury compared to the harshness I had known. Collapsing upon it, I felt as though I were sinking into a regal haven, a sanctuary for my weary soul. The fatigue consumed me, and without conscious awareness, I succumbed to the abyss of slumber.

The passage of time blurred as I drifted into dreams, my body finally finding solace in the realm of oblivion. It eluded me when exactly I slipped into unconsciousness, but my body, relieved of its burdens, was grateful beyond measure.

***

I was abruptly jolted awake by a cacophonous clang reverberating through the air, accompanied by the piercing wail of a siren. The blaring alarm gradually subsided, replaced by a chillingly composed and detached voice that echoed throughout the surroundings.

"Good morning, prisoners. Breakfast will be served in the right hall," the voice declared before falling into an eerie silence. Yet, the air remained filled with a medley of voices, screams, and distant roars. In an instant, the room flooded with blinding light, causing me to recoil instinctively.

Sensing my unease, April approached me with a cautious suggestion. "We'd better stick together," he advised, his voice laced with concern.

Rising from the bed, I experienced a rare sensation of slight restfulness coursing through my weary limbs. Though my movements were restricted by the shackles, I nodded in agreement, acknowledging April's wisdom. Together, we ventured out of the cell, passing through the now-opened door.

"Does it open on its own?" I inquired, drawing closer to April.

"Yes... It's a form of entertainment for the upper classes," he replied, his voice tinged with disgust at the thought.

Soon enough, I comprehended the true meaning of his words. Within the confines of the cell, prisoners were subjected to brutal beatings by an unrestrained crowd, while others, mostly young women, were forcibly taken away. In certain corners, the scenes were mutual, displaying the depths of humanity's desperation, and in some grim instances, lifeless bodies lay motionless. Anger surged within me unexpectedly, overwhelming my senses. Yet, April, as if anticipating my reaction, swiftly grasped my shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding.

"No, you can't," he declared, his tone icy and commanding, his grip inflicting a sharp pain. "Not now. I'll explain, but for now, we must keep moving."

I nodded, and in an instant, his hand released its grip, the remnants of discomfort lingering for a few seconds. It gave me a newfound appreciation for April's physical strength. Together, we emerged into a vast, towering chamber partitioned by sturdy bars. On the other side of the bars, individuals clad in white coats bustled about, carrying wooden trays adorned with equally rudimentary utensils. The room resounded with an unsettling echo, its discordant clamor amplifying my unease and fueling my eagerness to depart from this unsettling place.

"So, this is the dining room," I mused silently, surveying the surroundings more intently as I followed April's lead. Here, too, I observed the division between the strong and the weak. Some were deprived of sustenance, their gaunt figures revealing their struggle, while others maintained a cautious distance from the bars. Meanwhile, a select few indulged in multiple servings.

"Skip," April's firm voice rang out, startling the queue of prisoners. Murmurs arose, and gradually, they dispersed, their attention redirected.

Amidst the dispersing crowd, one individual's gaze locked with mine, freezing him in place. His hand trembled, and his voice quivered as he spoke, barely audible yet carried by the echoing acoustics of the room.

"M... March?" he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and recognition, permeating the stillness that had settled over the space.

Confusion gripped me as I scanned the room, searching for the cause of this reaction. To my surprise, I realized that the gaze of others had shifted toward us. Before I could grasp the situation, a shrill, grating voice pierced through the silence from behind.

"Well, why are you all standing there like statues? He is nothing but a traitor and a coward! Why are you afraid of him?" The words emanated from a towering figure, his eyes betraying the weight of countless sins. Slowly, he advanced toward us, and an instinctual surge of energy coursed through my body, preparing me for a confrontation, despite my limited strength.

"He abandoned us all..." he continued, but April swiftly intervened, his hand finding its mark on the intruder's face, muffling his spiteful words and exerting a firm grip.

"I would advise you to show some respect," April spoke coolly, his grip unyielding as the antagonist struggled in his grasp, his whimpers barely audible.

Finally released, the man sank to his knees, his trembling hand instinctively reaching for his bruised face. April gestured for me to follow, pointing toward a window within the barred enclosure. I stole one last glance at the disgraced individual, my mind swirling with questions, before obediently trailing April's lead.

"Let's each take our portions," April suggested, his mood noticeably improved compared to before. "I'll have three servings, and you'll have one."

Unexpectedly, a cheerful and lively voice interjected into our exchange, catching me off guard. I looked up to find a short, red-haired girl clad in a white coat. Her piercing blue eyes resembled the serene waters of the purest islands, while her hair blazed like the brightest fire. The striking contrast only enhanced her charm, and her smile was infectious.

"So, one of you is here," she chimed in, radiating joy and warmth. It was a welcome surprise for March, who hadn't anticipated such a pleasant encounter.

"Yes, even if it's unexpected," I responded, reciprocating her smile. "Thank you, June, for everything."

June simply nodded, her smile unwavering. She handed us two trays, one laden with three bowls and the other with a solitary bowl. April extended the tray containing a single serving toward me.

"Come on, you've already provided enough entertainment here," he quipped, his tone lighter than before.

We made our way back through the corridor, the once tumultuous atmosphere now quieting down. The initial frenzy appeared to subside after the first few minutes. As we passed our cell, April paused at the open door, revealing a disconcerting sight. The area surrounding the cell was littered with bodies—half-dead and barely alive. Fat and thin, ordinary and unremarkable, they lay strewn across the floor. Navigating carefully, April entered the room.

"As usual, I guess?" I overheard his voice emanating from within.

Curiosity propelled me forward, and upon entering, my eyes fixated on a figure tethered to the wall by iron shackles, his well-built frame rendered immobile. Like June, he possessed fiery red hair, but his eyes burned with an intense, almost otherworldly, crimson hue, as if on the verge of igniting.

"What?" a voice to the left interjected lazily, tinged with surprise.

To my left, on the couch, reclined as if he were lounging on a sun-soaked beach, lay a tall man whose presence seemed out of place. His lanky frame barely fit on the undersized furniture, his head propped up on his arm, supported by his elbows. It was evident that his position was not one of leisure, but rather a result of circumstances beyond his control. He appeared frail, with blond hair, glasses perched upon his nose, and deep, almost black eyes that held a glimmer of both wisdom and melancholy.

As I struggled to regain my fragmented memories, a throbbing headache pierced my skull. Their names hovered at the edge of my consciousness, teasing me with familiarity. Desperate for clarity, I quickly counted the months in my mind, hoping to unlock the missing pieces of the puzzle that haunted my thoughts. Images flickered in my mind, a reel of forgotten moments.

"August... and September?" I uttered, clutching my head in discomfort as the pressure intensified.

April, taken aback by my revelation, responded with surprise. "Your memory is improving, March. Yes, you're right. It's Augustus and September. And you... you've lost your memory."

An uneasy silence settled in the room, stretching uncomfortably. But then, without warning, a burst of energy erupted, and suddenly I found myself enveloped in a tight embrace. My vision filled with a cascade of fiery red hair, unmistakably belonging to Augustus.

"Where have you been?" Augustus's voice quivered with a blend of pain and joy, a potent mix of emotions that tugged at my heartstrings. In that moment, an overwhelming sadness washed over me, as if I had missed pivotal moments in the lives of my friends, even though I had yet to grasp the significance of it all.