" I wasn't crying "

It's a dark world, a black void. Unlike blinding white she's faced with a maddening dark space with no way out, all of her senses are equally blind in there. There's no sense of self. What a terrifying calm surrounding her, smothering, and suffocating her.

Suddenly, as if surfacing from underwater to take a gulp of air, her eyes snap open and her chest heaves violently. She can't think, can't remember anything. The scariest thing is to leave the clutches of your unconscious to find yourself facing the same reality. A dark place, no light, no visibility. She can hardly remember the face of her aggressor but can recall the violence, the way he grabbed her and kicked her while she could only observe in fear. It angers her, she felt powerless, she tried her best; it wasn't enough. She didn't beg for mercy, it's useless in any case, it would've been in hers too. Now, she only feels pain in her jaw, no need to glance at herself in a mirror to know that a huge bruise must be decorating her face at the moment. It's a relief to feel that nothing's dislocated. It's not the only part of her body that is suffering. She clutches her stomach feeling a piercing pain, trying to hold back a pained moan as she listens to her surroundings as well.

A sob, a quiet repressed sob.

Her heart skips a beat. She realizes in horror that she's not alone; her muscles tense up. She slowly turns her head in the direction of the noise. She can only make out a figure darker than the walls, someone like her, cowering and squatting on the hard, cold floor. They're shaking pitifully.

She opens her mouth as if to speak but no sound comes out. She is afraid in this environment and this fear paralyzes her entirely. However, she knows that this person is in the same situation as her, so she breathes gently despite the incessant tremors of her body. She only manages to build an ounce of artificial courage in order to communicate because deep down it reassures her not to be completely lonely. We look for comfort in others when there is none by itself and the body and heart has gone cold.

Then, she whispers, almost like just letting out a small breath. Yet it's enough to break this overwhelming silence. She waits, time seems to be slow. So slow, before she receives a response. Well kind of, more like a mumbling. Yes. It's an invitation.

- Are you okay? That must be a stupid question considering our current situation, right… well, you can cry, there's no need to try and suppress it buddy. She whispers as softly as she can, trying not to scare that person like she's facing a stray kitten.

What she gets in return is a snort. A Snort. It sounded louder than her small whispers, totally breaking the "don't scare the pitiful kitten away" atmosphere.

- I wasn't crying. Responds a hoarse male voice.

The girl raises her eyebrows not believing her ears, is he trying to gaslight me?

- You were.

- I wasn't. was not.

- You were, or do walls cry nowadays? Well, if that isn't a great discovery.

He tsk-ed. Her eye twitched so hard in that instant she thought it was convulsing. Too bad there's no light for that guy to watch her offended expression. She decides to ignore his existence.

Just now though, her anxiety calmed down so she's looking at the place they are stuck in. It seems to be a small, enclosed room, not bigger than an average bedroom in terms of surface. No windows. Rough cement walls and floors, the ceiling must be the same. Its very humid and cold, she can only assume it's underground. The last element completing this painting is a door. The door. The only escape but no need to be a genius to know it's certainly locked so she doesn't bother moving to test her guess out.

Only does she take notice of something.

- Hey bud, do you know how long we've been here?

She doesn't receive an answer right away but feels him glaring. She rolls her eyes.

- Like hell I know, there's no way to keep track of the time in this rabbit hole. Need I also remind you that you have been unconscious for several hours before waking up to struggle like a fish out of the water? He mocks.

She thinks for a second, ignoring his kind remarks.

- You're right. She sighs.

And so, the room goes back to being reigned by silence. She starts feeling more and more drowsy as minutes pass on, almost hallucinating a ticking clock. Tic, tic, tic. As she closes her eyes and puts her arm under her head to be more comfortable, she thinks about her cozy, warm bed. She should've enjoyed that precious last innocent sleep she had. She truly should have. She can't help but slip in the arms of Morpheus. This is the only way to drown her worries, she knows she's got a fever. She is fully aware that she won't be treated, it may last days before it goes down as such, she's not one to take tomorrow for granted. She had a feeling that she wouldn't be waking up soon, her burning forehead against her cold fingers and a drop of fear mixed with salted tears in her eyes.

The guy opens his eyes in a lazy way. That girl finally stopped moving and seems to be asleep. Her breath is shaky, well shouldn't she have worried for herself first when she woke up? How silly. He thinks.

You have no idea what I've already done for you, even got a brand-new bruise to my collection.

He couldn't watch someone make a move on another in front of him, how disgusting that would be. How sick can someone be to make it a show? And this stupid girl was unconscious all this time. It got him wondering if she got run over by a truck to have been sleeping so soundly. What a headache, more painful than physical pain. He's used to it. He shouldn't be glad to have company, again. It means someone else has to go through this. He rubs his eyes until it feels like they are burning therefore hiding the drops of water that started surfacing again. What an awful place.

- I'm sorry you had to arrive here. He whispers in a low aggrieved voice.

Only God must've heard his words, it's enough.

Nothing good awaits them.

When time seems to flow slowly in their prison, outside life couldn't be livelier. It has been a week. A thick coat of snow draped cities, like gentle blankets to keep them warm. Yet those two beings one sickly, sleeping and the other standing guard while fighting sleep are erased from society's picture, not even leaving behind a shadow on the used paper.

And sing me a lullaby if your heart is tight

and wish me goodnight at the sake of your own life

Oh, heal the sick without having us greet goodbye

A butterfly landed on your forehead tonight.