Pitch Black

I don't know how long I was in that cell. It seemed like years. The torturous images of cheating on Christopher, watching him die, me being shot in the chest. I relived the pain endlessly, and there was no escape.

Time after time I would see new people being added to these cells. Screaming women and weeping men, realizing they had nowhere to go but here now. It was all over, and not even the escape of dying could help any of us; we were already dead.

Most of the time I found myself crying, uncontrollably. I couldn't stop the tears from falling down my face, and wailing along with everyone else, only to get whipped into silence. I never thought that I would be dragged down to hell at eighteen, all for the sake of love and help. Why had love turn me so wrong? I had always thought that love was a beautiful thing to be cherished and not let go, that everything to obtain it would be worth it in the end. It was supposed to be rewarding. If so, was this my reward? An unfair eternity in Hell? And was it really all worth it?

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One point in time, I'm not sure when it was, I saw the guards walk to the cell at the other end of the hall. I heard achingly familiar screaming as it sounded like they whipped, yelled at, and tortured him. I peeked my head through the bar doors to listen better.

"Please, I have suffered enough! Spare my soul!" The voice screamed.

"You don't deserve to be saved. You are a sinner, a traitor, and must be treated as such!"

I heard the crack of the whip, chains rattling, and a horrid scream. I widened my eyes as I recgonized the voice, the voice of my loved one. Christopher.

I yelled loudly. I had completely forgotten the rule of silence as my hands gripped the metal bars of the cell. "LET HIM GO!" I screamed. "SPARE HIS SOUL! SPARE HIM!"

The guards came rushing out of Christopher's cell, and towards mine with whips. I braced myself for what I knew was coming. The whips against my skin hurt, extremely, but at least they had gotten off of him. That pain was worth feeling every day if I had to.

After they left, I sunk back down to the floor of the cell, feeling broken once more and having the worst of my memories flood back to me. I sighed quietly as tears ran down my eyes. No words could describe the agony I felt. I doubted that I could stay there any longer and not go completely insane...

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More time passed. I still kept to the ground, nearly lifeless. My body has gotten paler, and whip marks on my back stung but never bleeded. And knowing that Christopher was in the high-security cell didn't make it any better.

I heard the door open at the end of the hall, and someone walking in with slow footsteps. Something, it sounded like keys, jangled. I closed my eyes automatically, not wanting to hear, or see whoever got unmercifully whipped. The footsteps got closer and stopped in front of my cell. Shit. What could I have possibly done now?

I braced myself for the firm leather beating hard on my skin, covering my face with my hands, but it didn't come. Instead I heard a soft, familiar, feminine voice, an angelic voice, the first softness I had been offered in I don't know how long.

"Let me see your face." The voice whispered. "Please."

I lowered my hand shakily. What my eyes met was a woman who was garbed in a racy outfit composed of a short skirt, high heeled boots, and a tight corset. But her face...

Wide green eyes full of sorrow, shiny black hair that had been cut short, familiar lips I used to kiss softly that offered a small smile.

"Hi, Jack." Lynn said sadly. "Fancy we'd both end up in Hell."