Exopyrendo [WATTYS 2016]

Prologue II - Alix

3, 849 scratches in the wall, each with a purpose. They each represent the days I've known about a secret, and the days that I wished that the number I've had in my head would reach zero. Every one of those days was a struggle, but aren't they all? Every single day that you live is one less day that you're going to be alive. But in my case – one less day that I'll be stuck in this hellhole.

I sit in the center of the room, my legs crossed, and my gaze bouncing all around. My eyes trace the outlines of the concrete blocks that surround me on every side and I scour for the spots where the mortar holding the room together isn't so thick. I want to see sunlight and I want the crisp air outside, just once. I've tried to chisel away at some spots to achieve my goal, especially at the wall that leads to the outdoors, but each time a guard catches me and threatens to add another month onto my detainment.

However, that guard doesn't know how little my imprisonment means to me. I know I'm going to get out soon and there is nothing anyone can do to stop that. No one even knows about the strikes that are happening today; no one was told that today might be the day that everyone in our country will die.

And I'm using that to my advantage. Although this Isolator City is surrounded with walls, and has guards at every exit to keep the prisoners in, there seems to be one thing that can get through all of that.

The big secret. The reason I am here.

My eyes dart around the room, taking in my surroundings for one of the last times. The 10 foot tall ceilings are a combination of brown and gray and the walls are lighter. All four of the walls are crumbling. A shower and a metal toilet bowl sit in the corner of the room just across from the metal frame and board that I call a bed. It's quite uncomfortable, but I've had to endure it for half of my life – I don't even remember what a comfortable bed feels like.

"Hey," a guard yells, banging on the metal door to my cell. I jump a little at the sound, and turn my body. "We're doing a room search, stand your ass up and move to the back wall. We don't need to deal with your crap again today, so listen to me. I'm givin' you 10 seconds kid. And I'm counting this time."

I exhale, and stand up, not moving from the spot I was sitting in; I'm about 3 feet away from the wall I should be standing at. Usually I would go there, but I don't care anymore. There's this feeling in my core that's telling me what I'm awaiting should happen any second now. I may be right, but I would rather not listen to someone who has yelled at me during every room search for the past ten years.

He has hurt me many, many times, and every time I was terrified. He has pushed me to the ground for disobeying his orders, kicked my stomach until I was coughing up blood, and choked me until I momentarily stopped breathing. Each time I thought I'd die, but this time I know I am not going to. If he wants to hurt me, I'll let him. He can hurt me, and in return I can leave him in this place to die.

"You have 2 more seconds."

I clear my throat and straighten my posture. "Okay," I say, folding my hands. "I'm all set." My whole body tightens as it braces itself to be hit with the guard's night stick, and my lungs hurt as too much air escapes my body. And I continue to wait, slightly wondering why the guard hasn't opened the door yet. It's been way more than 2 seconds, and usually once I give him the cue, he's inside my cell before I can even finish telling him he's all set to come inside. "Did you hear me? You can come inside now."

He's quiet.

"Sir?" I ask, slowly making my way towards the door. Whenever this guard comes, his shadow darkens the foggy glass of the door where my food is delivered, but the shadow is smaller this time; much frailer. "Who's there?" I take another step forward, a much more cautious one than all of the others, as I worry if this door is going to fly open and the guard is going to attack me.