It All Comes To This

            “The irony of man’s condition is that the deepest need is to be free of the
                  anxiety of death and annihilation; but life itself awakens it, and
                              so we must shrink from being fully alive.”
                                                -Ernest Becker 
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Air

Where did it go?  It was all around her, but no where to be found.  Her lungs demanded it, her brain told her to grasp it, but her mouth could not indulge in the oxygen.

Air

Where did it go?

The spots in front of her eyes alerted her that she was close to darkness; maybe it was better if she did give out.  The body automatically starts to breathe.

It was agony waiting for her mind to slip into unconsciousness.  Her nails dug into her skin, as she attempted once again to open up the passage-ways...but why?  Not one time had it ever worked, why would it this time?  She learned that there was no way out...ever...

Torture it was; she wished he would stop, but nothing could be wished or hoped for in this prison.  It was expected that all prisoners die from the mental distress, either caused from the guards or from self affliction.  Never once was suicide an option for her, no matter how hard it became, no matter who suffered, she was not to kill herself under any circumstances; that would label her as a failure and a traitor to her friends; but now, she wanted to meet Death and welcome him into her life just this once.

Finally she felt it; the tingling and lightness of a heavy soul being relieved of its misery.  The eyes of the young woman went blank, and her arms hung limp at her sides as her body toppled from the weight of the chains on the cold, damp cement floor.

At last…she could finally breathe.

Doors opened and all that was heard was the whistling and clicking of boots that belonged to a man sent to check on the victim.

“Hm,” a heavy buckled boot kicked her lifeless body.  “Stubborn little runt…”

Bending down made his knees crack; the sound echoed off the walls in the prison chamber.  Taking a long boney finger, the guard ran it across her jaw line and sighed.  “She won’t be able to take much more of this kind of treatment much longer.  The body can only take so much.”

What a mess she caught herself up in; no seventeen year old girl deserves to be aged like this.  Her face once held a youthful glow, but now it was dirtied, weary and aged with strife.  A mask of despair and dread had been etched upon her visage and there was nothing to be done about it.

The guard who had taken an interest in this lifeless person from the moment she arrived at the prison took his time to examine her from afar.  He knew what was next.

“After suffocation, comes death…it always works that way…”

Shaking his head in disapproval, he stood up very slowly, turned his back to the crumpled body and walked out of the cell.  The metal doors clanked and slammed shut.

Nothing could be done; Time wore weary and was ready to give in to the promises of life; Time was rushed, Time had aged as well…Time was up...and so was her relief...

“Uh,” she moaned as her frail arms lifted her torso up off the ground.  Her eyelids drooping and her head dizzy from malnourishment and exhaustion, she managed to find the energy to cough up another salty helping of blood.

On all fours, she crawled to her dark corner which was dimly lit by a barred window high upon the opposite wall.  This allowed enough light to tease her into believing life was beautiful.  With everybody but her gone, she knew her end was near.  It was a disaster, nothing was supposed to turn out like this!

“No, what went wrong?” she asked herself.  “What did I do to upset Fate so much that her wheel landed on the worst prize one could win…?”

She could not even recall her own name.  It had been a long eight months since anybody had addressed her by her full name.  She questioned her state of being, her mind, her emotions.  Was she just another animal locked up in a cage?  Was she really a teenage girl with hopes and dreams?  Was she even a person?

It was a routine you see: first comes the torture, then the questions, then the defense mechanisms and then the torture caused by thinking.

Slowly she began to sing:  “Hush little baby don’t say a word, mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird...mockingbirds suck...row, row, row your boat gently down the stream...merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily life is but a dream.  But why are dreams in the present considered to be past events?  I dream everyday and I don’t have to be asleep.  Uh...I was going to do something now.”  As if on cue, she hugged her knees and sat perfectly still listening to the dripping of the moist stone ceiling.

“I miss my friends,” she spoke only to her best, most loyal companion; the skeleton of a previous inmate, long since dead.  “I miss you too...you were the first to go.”

Friend number one…

Why could she not think of the name of her friends.

Friend number two…


Was it really that long ago they were murdered?

Friend number three…

“I have to know him…her…who was that person?”  Tears filled her eyes.

Friend number four…

She grasped her head tight between her hands and thought as hard as she could.

Friend number five…

“No…not that person too…it can’t be…”  The eyes that had long been in a state of extreme drought finally saw their first sign of water.

But she must remember the last friend to die.  How could she not?  He was only her best friend…she had to remember his name…she could not.

“NO!  The last person to die!  I know it!  I know it!  I know it!”

Just then, up on that single window, a blue bird alighted on the sill and began to twitter a light, happy, little tune.  Her eyes slowly rolled up to investigate where the creature was.  A fixed gaze as the bird kept on whistling that same pattern of highs and lows, repeating the same pitch laid upon her sullen face.  Her nose crinkled and she protruded her tongue towards the window. 

“Go away and leave me alone!  Stupid thing,” she spat, but the bird did not leave.  “Hm...I used to be like you: free and pretty.  I SAID GO AWAY!” 

The blue animal’s attention was finally caught.  It’s black eyes met hers; it cocked it’s head, and flew away.

“No come back!”  It was no use.  Just another thing that was able to escape before she did.  “That thing interrupted my thoughts.”  Quietly she contemplated the last person who died.  “It was…”

Friend number six…Selena…but wait…that was her.  “That’s me, I am Selena.”

Thus ends the routine.  Now Selena sits and waits patiently for the next session.

And it all comes to this.