The Labyrinth

 “The only way out of the labyrinth of suffering is to forgive.” That is a total lie, that is just a stupid quote from an old book. I can’t forgive especially after what happened, after what they did. Forgiveness is weak, you must not give in to someone. You can never escape the labyrinth, you can only embrace it. I do and I will never forgive because it wasn’t my fault, it was his, it was all his. I remind myself every day, day after day because it was all him all along. I can’t forgive, I will not forgive, not him, not myself, and not anyone ever. I can’t, I just can’t. Life is a labyrinth, life is fascinating, beautiful but painful, long yet so short. Mine is long, too long. It was him, it is his fault. I feel the cold ground below my bare, red, scratched-up feet. I feel the long hospital gown tickle the caps of my knees and the backs of my legs. It was him, it always has been. I walk through the dark forest and listen to the wind rattle and wake up the trees, I feel my steps and the twigs cracking below me, I watch my steps trying to focus on them, trying not to think, I focus on the clinking of the tags that dangle from my neck. It was him, it was his fault, not yours. The trees stare and gawk at and follow me as I weave between them sewing a path, the wind sending warning whistles to me as I near the tree line. My hair flies behind my trying to pull me back. It was not your fault, it was his. I reach the tree line and stared out before me. I was ready to reach the end of the labyrinth. 

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I see the labyrinth in the darkness, it was not you, it was not your fault, it was his. I feel the coldness, I hear them, I can feel them in my head, I see him, I see his cold withered, horrible face. I see his disdain look splotched on his face, his thin eyebrows slithering across his forehead. I yell. I yell at him to leave, I yell at him for what he did, I yell at him for the labyrinth he put me in. I just yell. I yell back to their voices, I yell. I feel the icy clutches around me, I see the swirling labyrinth, never leaving and always spinning. The thoughts popping out and screaming at me and I can’t do anything. I force my eyes open, I hear my loud heavy breathing and my heart thumping loud like a beat in the background to the theme of my life. Three long seconds of terror, that is what I fear. Darkness, being alone in the dark with the labyrinth. I fear myself. It was him, he brought this upon you. I hate sleeping, I can’t sleep. All I can do is shut my eyes tight and hope it is over quickly. He did it, he did this to you.  I stand at the tree line and run my fingers over the smooth, scraggly bark of the trees, I see my dry, crackly hands, and notice the dirt under my nails. It was him, he is here always watching. I look out at what is before. I am alone at the tree line and I am going to get out of the labyrinth. 

     I walk forward, leaving the forest behind me, I can feel the trees sad eyes watching me leave and the wind sings its goodbye lullaby. I start to sing, what, I do not know? I don’t know a lot of things, but I used to know them, but the labyrinth makes you forget. It’s him, he did it. I remember them and I remember him, but I don’t remember myself, I know my name but that is thanks to the wrist band and tags around my neck, I know I am number zero from the zero that is tattooed on my arm. I walk, one foot stepping in front of the other, slowly, singing as I head toward the city. 

It is not much of a city, now it is just old ruins, I walk down the street, and look at the crackled pavement below me. It sends chills up my spine from my feet. I feel the cool presence of those who were once here, it is now just a ghost town after what he did. I walk along the road following the faded-out yellow line, it guides me and I shall follow it. I whip my head around to look behind me, I can feel him watching me, he is always here, always watching. I feel my wrist band sliding up and down my arm, I stare at it sometimes it only has a few words on it, the first line is big and bold but very faded out and I don’t know what it says but in slightly smaller print below it reads ‘Mentally unstable’ I know what that says. He did he made you like this. I walk past the old buildings and catch a glimpse of something in the glass. I jump back in surprise, it’s someone, it’s me, I stare at my hollowed-out face, my skin looks scraped away from the bones in my face. My scraggly hair springs from my head and big dark circles slither around my eyes. He did this and he will pay for this.

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I stare at the computer screen in front of me, I see someone walking down the street. It is an odd sighting, no one but ghosts and spirits roam this city anymore. I notice the long hospital gown that she is wearing, it flows in the wind dancing around. She looks horrible if I am being totally honest. She whips her head around like she is being followed, and that when I see her face. Her notched-out cheeks, dark circles sketched around her eyes. It is her. The one who did all this. I notice the white wrist band and pause the frame on the security recording. It can’t be her. She was surely dead. But no there she stood in the middle of the street. I turn to the general behind me and say “Bring me patient zero.”