The Worst Of Prisons

TAYLOR'S POV

I keep wondering if I would be better off dead than alive. Not that it will take long before I actually die, my body is at the edge of survival, about to fall to the other side but dearly hanging onto life with a thin thread.

I have been in this dark room for . . . well, I can't tell because there is no way of knowing when it's day or night in here. I lost track of time a long time ago. Probably since the day I woke up and found myself in this dark prison. I have stayed for months, I just can't tell how many. My beating heart is the only thing that assures me that I am still a living thing.

But that heartbeat has been slowly fading since I fell sick. I can't even tell when because it could be a month or weeks ago, like I said you can't tell when a day begins or ends in here. The pain kept getting worse, and so did the coughing. My whole body grew weak to a point that I couldn't stand on my own two legs.

Being locked in here alone was devastating enough, but it's like fate wasn't done destroying me. Whatever infected my body kept taking away my strength. Now I cannot sit up on my own let alone move around in the darkness. I have nightmares all the time and see horrifying illusions even with my eyes open.

I miss the days I used to have a parent to talk to. I no longer have that privilege and I am tired of being tough on my own. My hope of one day being rescued now seems like a stupid dream. I am scared of death but living like this feels like a torturous punishment.

It's probably been a year since I saw the golden colour of sunlight. Darkness has been my companion since the day that man took me away from the palace of the Fire Moon pack where I was a slave.

He had the help of two soldiers that he had obviously paid to take me out of the palace. They claimed that Luna had ordered that I be transferred to work for her sister's family outside the palace. As a slave, I couldn't object as I had no right to do so. I however realized instantly that they had lied when they escorted me past the palace gates and I saw the man waiting.

Being a palace slave wasn't in any way a good life, it was in fact awful in every aspect and manner. But it was way better than being taken away by a strange man with the coldest of faces.

He looked hostile and I could literally see his evil intent in his eyes. I did my best to put up a fight and avoid being handed over to him. But I was alone against two adults, trained soldiers and him, my weak efforts were futile.

One of the soldiers knocked me out with a punch when I kept on screaming and they didn't have a cloth to cover my mouth. When I regained my consciousness I found myself here, surrounded by four walls and a roof that doesn't let in any light.

I was appalled and screamed out for help until my voice became hoarse and my throat began to hurt. No one answered.

Only the man that kidnapped me showed up after a long time and didn't even open the door. He pushed a piece of bread wrapped with paper through the slim space below the door and said that I am an annoying whiner like my mother when I desperately begged him to let me out.

He left without another word and I didn't take the dry bread he pushed inside because I had hope of getting help or somehow leaving his prison.

But I blindly searched for it after staying for a long time in the dark and growing extremely hungry. It tasted sour and was about to go bad. I ate it anyway because the other option was to die of hunger.

Fear was making me sweat and tremble. I would call out loud for anyone to help every time I felt like I had the strength to do it. But it was like no one was ever close to hearing me. The man came back after a long time and just pushed another piece of bread inside. I pleaded with him to open the door but he walked away after muttering a couple of insults.

I slowly lost hope of finding help as time passed and got tired of begging the man to let me go every time he showed up and pushed the small piece of bread into the room. Anytime he talked he would say awful things about my family that I didn't want to hear. So I avoided listening until one day he said that my dead sister got reborn with dazzling powers and was looking for her lost family. He sounded bitter, but I was exhilarated even though I had doubted she would ever find me.

The man was probably the only person that knew where I was. He didn't sound like he cared when I told him I had fallen sick and begged that he at least let me out for a minute. He snorted and walked away.

My sickness got worse and I could barely eat the bread he kept bringing. I thought I would die without being able to contact my sister and let her know that I needed help.

Then one day a little girl brought the bread and pushed it in through the tiny space under the door. She innocently called me to take it and I crawled to the door and did my best to befriend her even though we couldn't see each other.

She revealed that the man that had me locked up in here was her stepfather and she could let me out because only he had the key. I asked if she could help me send a letter to my sister and she luckily said that she knew a messenger that she thought she could give it to. It was like my lucky day because she actually sounded excited about the whole prospect of writing a letter.

I asked for a paper and pen which she didn't have but left to get them. I thought that she wouldn't return, but she did after a while. I told her what to write and assumed that it was what she wrote since I couldn't see her or the letter. She assured me that she would give the letter to the messenger she said she knew before she left. She never came back, but the man did.

Sometimes he just pushes the bread inside and walks away. But there are times that rants for hours about how much he loathes my mother. He doesn't care if I am listening or not, he just keeps raving about how he desires to punish her for having been a selfish, disrespectful and uncaring woman.

There is always so much bitterness in his voice when he talks about her. He sounds like a vengeful, heartbroken lover. One that has lost his mind. I don't talk back to him and he never sounds concerned about it. I could be dead in here for a month and he would know.

I don't think my sister got the letter. The little girl probably didn't send it. I am now feeling worse than I did at the time I spoke to her. I can't sit up, I can't make a loud sound, I can't reach out for the bread nor eat it, I am scared of death but I don't see a way I can escape it.