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Silence.
“Anyone there?”
His question went unanswered.
“This isn’t funny!” His voice echoed away, and again the silence returned. “Please! I’m getting angry!” Someone could hear him, he was sure. Somewhere, there were ears listening, eyes watching, mouths grinning. “Just show me your faces!”
It wasn’t the darkness that bothered him; it was the emptiness. He could feel no walls; reach no ceiling. Even the floor felt oddly insubstantial.
“Why do you want me here?”
Patient people were the cruellest of all. Perhaps the Watchers wanted him to find a way out of . . . wherever he was. There could be traps in the darkness, holes in the floor, anything.
“At least give me my clothes back!”
Being naked didn’t particularly bother him either; nor did he feel cold. He just wanted a sign, something to let him know he wasn’t alone in the emptiness, be it a flash of light, blinding pain, a voice . . . anything to accompany this cruel and maddening dark.
“I won’t play your game. You are sick!” he shouted, furiously. He laughed. Harsh. Maniacal. It sounded like shattering glass. He wouldn’t be their guinea pig. He’d give them nothing to observe.
Yet, what if they didn’t care what he did? What if there was no agenda? Perhaps the Watchers only cared that he existed, that he was there, conquered and controlled. They didn’t want loyalty. There was no test to pass.
“Whatever I do is good enough, right? Fuck you!”
He ran, hard and fast, not caring if he kept a straight line or ran in circles, on and on, until his lungs burned and his legs weakened. He stopped, bent double, sucking huge breaths to steady his fatigue and nausea. Perhaps he should bite his wrists, deep, down to the bone. Someone would have to come then, surely. He was their subject. They couldn’t let him die. But then, what could be more interesting than death itself, the greatest unknown?
“Please, just leave my memory this time. I’m begging you!” His voice trailed off into the darkness.
And it began again; that cold snake spiralling up his spine, stabbing sharp teeth into his brain, injecting icy, forgetful venom. It never abandoned him; it was always there, lurking, ready to rise from its lair in the bowels of his body. The only thing they would never allow him to forget was that he had forgotten something. The frustration, the anger . . . it all remained within the emptiness. It was the details the Watchers deemed unimportant. Like a mouse on a wheel, he only had one option available.
He sighed. “Hello?”
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