Why?
Prolouge
I could tell something was wrong immediately! The taste of dirt was the first clue. This made me dry heave so I searched my mind to explore the area I knew wasn't my room with other senses. There was no sound. Instead of being just quiet there was an absence of sound which was eerie. It made me feel like I was in the horror movie at that pause in music just before it starts up fast and loud again when the monster comes out. The smell was musky and old but not in a good way like a grandma’s house might smell. This smell was like going face first into a spider web and inhaling; it was thick. Starting to feel around, a piece of hard and splintery plywood restricted my movement. It surrounded me only giving me an inch clearance in all directions. My breathing was getting faster and then I opened my eyes! There was darkness, not a squick of light in the entire area and that tipped me off to where I was. I was petrified; I should be to be where I am. Some would call it six feet under, but to me it was the small speed bump in my plan for freedom.
Claustrophobia was starting to set in. When my hammering heart became louder in my ear than my hands smacking the ceiling of the box in panic I realized I had to calm down. The limited air supply was already getting thinner. I felt like she was sprinting at high altitudes and every second I got higher and more out of breath. I convinced myself I needed to calm down if I was going to survive long enough for them to come and get me.
A tsunami of pain washed over me. My brain was being squashed into what felt like a tiny box in my mind and the scar I had gotten that summer burned. I reached up with my hand in attempt to stop the pain; it felt wet! Closing my eyes, I thought. Spring break, when all this started, I had learnt that the mind could overpower any amount physical pain, but this summer I had also learnt there was no way to stop pain of the mind, it had to be suffered through.
In a desperate attempt to subside the pain a little I started to think about her life before. When life was simple and all I had to worry about was an especially oozy zit. I wished I knew then what I was going to go through because maybe I could have appreciated what I had while I had it. Images flashed through my mind of my old life but that only upset me. I shook the thoughts from my head. 'There’s no use thinking about the past, you can't change anything. You have to focus on what's going on now to survive!' I tried to convince myself. As I snapped out of it the pain washed over me again. My state of morphine was lost. I made several attempts in the next few minutes to get it back but I failed miserably.
The wait dragged on for what seemed like days. My consciousness was on a cloud blowing away from and towards me slowly with the winds of my mind. I was sleepy and alert, like a guard dog in a bad area, at the same time. Just as I was about to succumb to the sleep I heard a voice, the wonderful sarcastic voice just a few seconds ago I believed I would never hear again. It was muffled but I didn't care, I knew it was her and she was there to get me out of this box.
The sleepiness dissipated to be replaced by more alertness. I had to stay awake. How pathetic would it be to die as I was being rescued? I tried one last attempt to go back to the morphine state I had achieved earlier. This time I thought about him. He wouldn't be there with them, he couldn't be. Instead of the desired effect the pain only got worse with the thought of him. What did I do? Why had it happened? I view life and death as a game of chance, it was obviously nothing to do with good and bad or it wouldn't have happened, especially not to him. I screamed out in agony as the memories came flooding back. It was too much to bear.
After a few minutes of deep breathing and attempted concentration on any subject but the one that caused me so much pain she finally heard the hollow clonk of shovel against wood. The shovel had pierced a hole in the box and air came flooding in. I sucked in the air like it was Christmas dinner with the entire family (you snooze you lose) as the shovel was being yanked out. The light that filled the casket once the shovel was out burnt my eyes; I hadn't seen it in a very long time. Although I loved seeing the light again I was relieved when the face of the girl I had heard earlier covered the hole. She smiled reassuringly.
"You are a mess!" she noted.
"Boy, am I glad to see you," I panted with relief so strong she could probably see it.
"We have got work to do," she said, as smile slowly spreading across her face.
Claustrophobia was starting to set in. When my hammering heart became louder in my ear than my hands smacking the ceiling of the box in panic I realized I had to calm down. The limited air supply was already getting thinner. I felt like she was sprinting at high altitudes and every second I got higher and more out of breath. I convinced myself I needed to calm down if I was going to survive long enough for them to come and get me.
A tsunami of pain washed over me. My brain was being squashed into what felt like a tiny box in my mind and the scar I had gotten that summer burned. I reached up with my hand in attempt to stop the pain; it felt wet! Closing my eyes, I thought. Spring break, when all this started, I had learnt that the mind could overpower any amount physical pain, but this summer I had also learnt there was no way to stop pain of the mind, it had to be suffered through.
In a desperate attempt to subside the pain a little I started to think about her life before. When life was simple and all I had to worry about was an especially oozy zit. I wished I knew then what I was going to go through because maybe I could have appreciated what I had while I had it. Images flashed through my mind of my old life but that only upset me. I shook the thoughts from my head. 'There’s no use thinking about the past, you can't change anything. You have to focus on what's going on now to survive!' I tried to convince myself. As I snapped out of it the pain washed over me again. My state of morphine was lost. I made several attempts in the next few minutes to get it back but I failed miserably.
The wait dragged on for what seemed like days. My consciousness was on a cloud blowing away from and towards me slowly with the winds of my mind. I was sleepy and alert, like a guard dog in a bad area, at the same time. Just as I was about to succumb to the sleep I heard a voice, the wonderful sarcastic voice just a few seconds ago I believed I would never hear again. It was muffled but I didn't care, I knew it was her and she was there to get me out of this box.
The sleepiness dissipated to be replaced by more alertness. I had to stay awake. How pathetic would it be to die as I was being rescued? I tried one last attempt to go back to the morphine state I had achieved earlier. This time I thought about him. He wouldn't be there with them, he couldn't be. Instead of the desired effect the pain only got worse with the thought of him. What did I do? Why had it happened? I view life and death as a game of chance, it was obviously nothing to do with good and bad or it wouldn't have happened, especially not to him. I screamed out in agony as the memories came flooding back. It was too much to bear.
After a few minutes of deep breathing and attempted concentration on any subject but the one that caused me so much pain she finally heard the hollow clonk of shovel against wood. The shovel had pierced a hole in the box and air came flooding in. I sucked in the air like it was Christmas dinner with the entire family (you snooze you lose) as the shovel was being yanked out. The light that filled the casket once the shovel was out burnt my eyes; I hadn't seen it in a very long time. Although I loved seeing the light again I was relieved when the face of the girl I had heard earlier covered the hole. She smiled reassuringly.
"You are a mess!" she noted.
"Boy, am I glad to see you," I panted with relief so strong she could probably see it.
"We have got work to do," she said, as smile slowly spreading across her face.