How many days have I been here? I've lost track of time,
and this old type writer is my only companion. The silence & the loneliness are
killing me. The clicking of the old hammer on ribbon to this piece of paper
sings to me like a symphony of drummers tapping at the walls around me. Maybe I
should be writing to you -you: the only presence in this cold dark prison. I don't
even have to speak, but you listen. "Click click click," is all you
say to prove you care.
I do not know you, but I hope you read this and know that
we are friends: you who have found these pages; you are the only connection to humanity
I have. I'll tell you everything I know and everything I remember.
I can't give you exact dates; I can only look out through
the barred windows to the snow covered courtyard. The days seem short, so I'll
say it's sometime close to December or January. I really can't say much more.
I don't really know how I got here; I just awoke in a hospital
room. The sound of a phone ringing was the first thing I heard. I was so weak.
Every muscle ached as I reached for the sound. So many questions went through
my mind at once; all I knew was that I needed to answer it. Even being so close,
I struggled as my limbs were stiff and poorly responsive. I was too late; as I
touched the phone it stopped. Maybe they'll call back later.
The bed was almost as rigid as I was stiff; I reached over
and, unable regain my balance, slid to the floor. My arm broke my fall as I
fell with a hard smack. The pain was intense. I screamed for help; there was no
answer; there was nothing but the ringing in my ears, and the taste of dust.
I laid there for several hours as question after question
rushed through my mind. Where am I? How did I get here? Where is everyone? Is
this a hospital, then why hasn’t anyone come to help me?
I had time to examine my environment as I slowly gained
control of my limbs. Firstly, I noticed dust; it was becoming hard to breathe
as I looked around for anything I could use to call for help. Maybe something
happened and they forgot me. Maybe there was a disaster and they left me.
Shouldn't I have family or friends that would have come to get me? I looked
around further and noticed on the side table set a food tray. I was so hungry,
but something smelt foul in the room; regardless, it was out of reach.
At this point something seriously concerned me. It should
have been a clue that something was off, but I was too overwhelmed with the
situation to even process the reasoning. The socket for the phone had nothing
connected. In fact, I don't remember the phone being connected at all. Now that
I think of it, maybe I disconnected the phone when I fell; that would have made
more sense. Perhaps I just imagined the phone ringing. Maybe this is a
nightmare, and I just need to wake up.
Bending my legs became easier. Occasionally they'd cramp,
and I'd stop. After I spent a while trying to roll over, I eventually crawled
to the chair next to the bed. I pulled myself up and sat examining the filthy
bed I laid in and the molded meal tray. It was getting dark fast almost like
all the light in the world was running from something. Unable to stand, I
settled back to the floor, and hid beneath the bed. I've started sleeping
beneath my bed every night since. There's something terrifying about how pitch
black this place gets at night.
Night passed. I had no dreams. I woke beneath the metal
undercarriage of the hospital bed, and wondered what I had done to deserve
this. I was able to pull myself to the chair and then to an unstable standing
position. I propped myself with whatever sturdy objects I could find as I
worked my way to the door. As I braced myself, I turned the knob knowing that I
was either about to be filled with shock or anger trying to explain the neglect
I experienced.
The door opened, & I peered into the hallway.
"Hello?" I yelled looking for any sign of life. My throat burned from
the dust. No one answered. No one was there. I used the hand rail against the
wall to brace myself as I walked my way to the nurses’ station. I could see the
desk between the four halls.
The desk was empty. There were sets of papers all neatly
stacked and organized. Next I looked through the drawers for anything useful.
Beneath the phone was an old phone book. Thank God! Now I can find where I am.
The cover was smeared with black ink. The pages had each word and name censored
with a black marker. I called 911 --no answer. I started dialing random numbers
--no long distance and no answer.
I have to get out. I ran to the unit doors; they wouldn't
budge. I slammed myself into them -kicked them but to no avail. I went to the
window and opened it. I ran my hands down the cold iron bars looking for some
kind of latch or weakness; they were drilled into the concrete. I'm trapped.
That's when I found you. You were sitting in the office
across from the window. The door read Henry Jennings M.D. & you sat upon
the desk in the center of the room. I didn't know I'd be coming back so soon.
You are my brother -my only friend in the silence.
