The Prison Keeper

Chapter 3

I don't know how long has passed. I hear him stop outside the door, whistling that same tune. When he's gone I can still hear it, echoing through my head. I'm not dead yet, so it can't be too long. I feel weak though, my mouth is completely dry, I can't feel my tongue. I'd rather he just killed me than putting me through this. All I have to do is think about Claire and the baby, I've let them down and left them to die, my own stupidity and inability to listen.

The whistling is coming again, I try to push myself up from the floor but I'm too weak, I try to shout but I can't, nothing comes out but a squeak. He's stopped just outside the door. The door opens and he walks in, he has a bottle in one hand and a can in another. He puts them down in front of me. He stretches out his hand and runs it across my face, there's a scar running all the way down the side of his hand onto his wrist.

"I'm going to keep you alive for a bit longer. Don't eat it all at once, take your time, have a little party for yourself, celebrate that you're being giving a little more time to live, not many get that."

Whistling, he leaves the cell, the door slamming, the light comes on, the fluorescent bulb flickering, it's making me feel sick. I could just not eat the food, or not drink the water. It'd all be over then, he can't force me. The water bottle is cold, I can see the drops running down the side, it's been kept cool. My stomach is in knots, I'm so hungry I don't think I'd be able to eat. I reach out for the bottle of water. I could just pour it out on the floor and that's it, it's all done, I'll die soon. I tip it to the side, watch as some of the water falls on the floor. I pull it towards me and put it to my lips, slowly sipping it, it tastes like the greatest thing in the world. The coolness in my mouth, my tongue wet again.

I pull one of the beans from the can, it's a dark colour, I put it in my mouth and swallow, not even tasting it. I push myself up and prop myself against the wall. Why is this madman keeping me alive? The whistling is coming back, the door opens.

"Your wife, she's got company. She's going on a little journey, let that console you. That will be your last meal and your last drink."

"Who's she with?"

"A friend of mine."

"Where are they going?"

"It doesn't matter where they are going. Everything is irrelevant to you now, the only thing you have left is to sit here and wait."

"At least tell me who you are."

"As I said, it's all irrelevant."

"That's a nice scar you have on your hand."

He flinches as I speak, looking down at his hand and then holding it up to the light.

"I thought you'd be more of a challenge, put up more of a fight, but you're no different to the rest of them. I hope one day someone will pass through who actually wants to live. You don't want to live do you?"

"As you said, it's all irrelevant now."

"Do you know how long you've been here?"

"No."

"Just over one day, my friend. I'll leave you in peace, enjoy the quiet, contemplate the meaning of life, make sure every breath is a deep one, soon you won't be taking any."

He shuts the door, this time he leaves without whistling. That must be a bad sign.

"You're listening, aren't you?"

Nothing.

"I don't expect any humanity from a man who kills innocent people."

His voice comes from outside the door.