Whisper in Darkness

**This is an emotional story. It has mention of drugs, violence and other sensitive things.**

I woke up to a high pitched beep. I gently rubbed my head, which was still pounding with pain. I couldn't remember what exactly happened. I just remember him. Nothing else. I looked around the hospital room, but I found it empty. I knew why. Everyone probably thought I was dead. Was I? I didn't feel dead… 

I opened my mouth to call out, but no noise came from my mouth. I tried again, but still there was nothing.

What in the world is happening? Why can't I speak?

I sat alone in the hospital room for what felt like days. Eventually the door opened and a doctor walked in, looking at me with concern.

“Welcome back to reality, Whisper.” She said, softly.

Whisper? Whose that? My name is… Shot. What is my name? 

I opened my mouth again, trying to ask her who Whisper was, more importantly who I was. I only remember him. I don't even remember how I knew him, how he knew me. Not even how we ended up like that…… I remembered the pain he brought me, he’d hold me close like I was a feeble child. Yet, at the same time he’d be dragging a knife along my back, allowing my blood to drip onto the floor. The thought itself made me shiver.

The doctor sat on the edge of the hospital bed, watching me for a minute, “Your okay kid.” She whispered, “He isn’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

I tried to ask her who he was, and what happened to him… What happened to me? But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t speak. My throat felt on fire. Soon, the burning came too much to bear and I just gave up.

The doctor tilted her head, “Can you speak?”

I used to be able to… But he did something. He poured some kind of chemical down my throat. It choked me, it did for hours. The worst part was, he just sat there. A small smile on his lips as I struggled to breathe, as I begged on my knees for him to stop. He did nothing for me. 

I shook my head, earning a small sigh from the doctor “What do you remember? Can you write it down?” 

I shrugged, I probably could. If I remembered how to write properly. Spell properly at that.

She nodded, “I'll get you a paper and pencil.” With that she got up and left, leaving me to myself once again. I took the time trying to figure out what had happened. But the only thing I remembered was him and some of the things he did to me.

The pain. I vividly remembered the dark, cold room. The chains that were hung from the wall. I had been in those very chains many, many times. I still couldn’t feel my wrists because of it. Actually, I couldn’t really feel anything. Only pain. It wasn’t in any particular area either. It was just simply there, burning through my body like an underground fire in a coalmine.

I looked down at my very skinny wrists. All those years in that small room had definitely taken their toll. My bones were sticking out everywhere. There wasn’t a single thing that had any kind of padding on it. I really was just flesh and bone. My body was lined with hundreds of scars and even some wounds that were still open. My poor wrists had it the worst though. The chains I had once been hung from, had carved so deep into my wrists that there was an almost permanent mark in them. 

The door once again opened, this time making me jump a bit. The doctor walked into the room with a small table, a paper and a pen. She positioned the table beside me and set the pen and paper down on it.

“Okay Whisper, what do you remember?” She asked, pulling up a chair beside the small table. 

I grabbed the pen and silently started to write- 

Okay, first of all, my name ain’t Whisper. I don’t know what my name is, but it isn’t Whisper.

She sighed, “I know, kid. But we don’t know your name either. So until one of us finds out your name, we’re just going to call you Whisper okay?”

Fine… Anyway, I remember him. I don’t know who he is or how in the world I knew him. But I know his face… 

“Okay. What did he look like, if you don’t mind the question…”

He was tall, a bit lean. His eyes almost looked lifeless. But at the same time, they had a loving look in them. His voice was soothing, but rough at the same time. He’d tell me how brave I was… How good I was… Yet at the same time, he’d drug me and kick me to the ground.

I’m sorry… I’m drifting away from the question. He had a strong build. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was once a warrior. He kept his hair short and neatly combed back. He must’ve really liked his hair. He always kept it clean somehow… I don’t know how. I never saw him comb it once. I never heard him shower or anything. And I know he was always there… I was too precious to him. I was too valuable to leave alone for the night. Though he’d leave me to myself for weeks with no food and very little water… It didn’t matter. He was the only one to take care of me… He told me over and over again, no one would come for me… I slowly began to believe him as hours turned to days, to weeks to painful years of just plain torture. 

I didn’t want to be around him. But he is the only thing I had contact with. So I craved it. I craved his touch. I loved it when he held me. I loved it, despite the pain he brought me. He broke me! He made me crave his contact! I’m so sorry I failed you

I dropped the pen and fell backwards, curling up in a ball. Just like I always did in the old prison. It was the only way I felt comfortable. I flinched as the doctor softly touched my shoulder.

“You failed no one, kid.” She whispered, running her hand along my scarred back. It felt good. But I closed my eyes tightly, instinctively expecting a random sharp pain. But none came. I knew it wouldn’t. But it still shocked me. Maybe I really was broken. The only contact I ever remembered was his contact. And that always led to pain.

“It’s okay… He won’t hurt you. You can go back to living your normal life.”

Normal life? Ha! I don’t even remember my life before him. I can’t even speak anymore! How can I live a normal life, when I am far from normal?

*This is only a small part of a story I have begun to write, so I am aware that it sounds far from complete*