How Did I Get Here?

Clink clink clink clink, goes the sound of the lift mechanism pulling the roller coaster car upward, gradually climbing the steep hill. The familiar sound transports me to a place I easily recognize. I see a thick wooden door attached to a chain link pulley. As the door slowly moves upward, clink clink clink clink, a small sliver of light is let in. A rectangular tray slides in a few inches in front of my feet before the door crashes back down with a thud against the dusty concrete, creating a cloud of soot that floats for a few seconds before leisurely finding its place back on the ground. 

On the tray, I see a glob of seemingly rancid mush with an unpleasant brown and dark yellow color. A ring of grease surrounds it at its base where it meets the plastic. No utensils, forcing me to scoop whatever this was into my dirty hands and up to my mouth. A small plastic cup of water next to it, just enough to keep me alive. I stare, making no eager movements to reach for it. The flies, however, swarm and attach themselves to the mess that sits in front of me. One lands on my arm, directing my attention to the thin, emaciated limb. I see where dirt and dust have mixed with the sweat on my skin, making a thin layer of filth. I make no attempt to shoo the fly away, letting it crawl up and down my arm, I've become used to the feeling. The heavy shackles attached to my wrists force me to preserve my movements, saving my energy to be able to shift my weight, off loading the pressure from one side of my body to the other, allowing me some relief from the pain I feel from being stuck on the hard, cold floor.

I look around in the darkness. It is silent, just the buzz of the flies circling around me. Looking up, towards the top of the cinder block wall in front of me - a short, single row of glass block lets in some daylight, which seems to disappear all too quickly - the brightness gradually intensifies as the hours go by then fading as day turns to night.

Outbursts of anger and frustration take over at times. Thoughts of escape enter my mind, playing out different scenarios in my head - I visualize breaking out of these shackles, busting my way out through the tiny window or finding the strength to lift the heavy wooden door. Doubt sets in. It won’t work, I will probably fail. Why even try? 

I think of how I got here, but the details tend to slip further and further away in my mind as time goes on, making me wonder if I will ever get out of here. Did someone put me here, drugged me and carried me away? I can’t remember. I would remember the sharp pain from the needle being pushed into my neck, and the feeling of being paralyzed, as if my arms and legs were attached to something too heavy to move. I would remember the sense of panic as my consciousness had not yet faded, but would just moments later, leaving me with peace and total darkness as my eyelids fell. At this point, I would much rather have peace and darkness.

I don’t sleep much. I feel confused and groggy upon waking up in the mornings, wanting to stretch my arms and legs but only given the very short distance the heavy shackles would allow - having no real desire to move much from this spot anyway. 

During my early days in this prison I would scream, yell, hoping for someone to hear me. Nobody ever came. The only sign of other human life was when I heard the clink clink clink clink of the wooden door being pulled upward. The door only ever being opened enough to slide the tray through. This told me someone must have been out there, the person who took me and put me here. They never entered, no matter how much I pleaded and begged to be let out. Complete isolation. My efforts diminished over time. No more screaming for help, not bothering to make any kind of sound, forgetting what my own voice sounds like. I feel the long, dried up streams on my cheeks where tears used to travel down my face. I don’t even bother to cry anymore.

Are there others like me, trapped in this place? It doesn’t matter, right now I feel alone. 

I try to think of why I was put here. Did I hurt somebody? Did I piss somebody off? Are they trying to make me suffer? It’s working. Whatever the reason, they got their revenge. Did I deserve this? When had I served my sentence? Thoughts of giving up frequent my mind, but then I find the small glimmer of hope and think to myself “things may get better.” Somebody must know I am gone, they have to be looking for me. Maybe they will show up here to let me out. It could happen today or tomorrow, I have to hang in there. 

I still hear the clink clink clink clink, but it is faint. I look toward the wooden door but it is not moving. Then the clink comes to a sudden stop. Silence. I feel a subtle breeze against my face, the warmth of the sun on my skin. A moment of pure tranquility as I sit atop the hill - in the distance are large colorful trees, birds gliding through the air above them. Then the feeling of anxiousness, fear returns as I hear clink clink clink clink again, but this time gaining speed and the pauses between the clinks become shorter and shorter as the roller coaster car breaks the peak of the hill and begins its rapid descent. 

This feeling of fear is different, more of excitement, exhilaration, joy and most of all, freedom.