Entwined in This Infinity

8. Hopeless - Heather

What a terrible, terrible idea this was. You’re stranded, a useless map in your hands and a useless optimistic stranger at your side. The corridors of the labyrinth are dismally medieval. Torches flicker, giving away nothing but a dim circle of visibility, and the walls themselves are worn, cracked stone. Water drips from above and pools on the floor. You’re cold and miserable and on the verge of crying if you don’t make it out of here soon.

“Hey, it’s okay, dearie.” The stranger, Mary, attempts to put a hand on your shoulder. She has the soft, gentle voice of a mother that has been grating rather than soothing during this ordeal.

You yank away from her hand with a defiance you don’t feel, swiping at the tears forming at the corners of your eyes. “My name’s Heather.”

“Right, right,” Mary says, hands fluttering. “I’m sorry, dear, I’m so forgetful.”

“And you thought it would be a good idea to come along with me! To a maze!” You feel guilty for yelling, but you’re convinced you’re going to die in this dank, miserable place.

Mary frowns, lips turning down and eyebrows furrowing. She is a cartoon. “Well, I saw you go in the entrance, and you were all alone. How could I let you come in here without anyone? So many people have disappeared in here.”

“So instead of one person, two people are going to die.” You stare down at the map, the stupid, stupid map. It was supposed to help you find the exit, find the ending to this puzzle.

Before Mary could chime in with any uplifting remarks, you growl and begin to tear the map into shreds, suddenly possessed by the powerful rage of one who has repressed negativity their entire life. “I’m so stupid! I thought by coming here, I would finally—” You throw the scraps to the ground and put all your strength into stomping them into the damp stone. “—Finally show I could do something useful. That I could do something other than cower in the fucking corner like a fucking coward.” Each expletive is blissful to your ears, punctuated with an accompanying stomp. You can’t see the scraps of paper anymore, but it doesn’t matter. You keep going.

“Good fucking going, Heather! Yeah, you’re that fucking special that you of all fucking people would fucking solve it when people have been fucking trying for fucking thousands of fucking years. Fuck.” The last is a screech of frustration that has you throwing your whole body into the stomp. You slip and fall on your back and you just. You just scream.

The back of your shirt and pants are soaked.

Somehow the screaming dissolves into sobbing. Mary pulls you into a sitting position so she can hug you. She’s crying as hard as you are.