Evening / Morning

[Maraoone]

((Przemyslaw Ziemiak continues from Possession))

It wasn't dark anymore.

What Przemek saw was a yellow static now. Oh, now it was green. Now it was red. Now it was red and green and yellow. Did Beth bring him outside? He didn't remember her saying anything, didn't remember being carried. Maybe she did it while he was asleep. Did she remove his blindfold? He reached his hand up, felt around— no, his blindfold was still on. He felt around him, still nothing but metal all around, bumpy and dusty beneath his fingertips, cold rust. Was this outside? It didn't feel windy, or any warmer or colder than earlier. Or snowy, actually.

"Hello?"

His voice echoed same as before. Right. He was still in the mines. Except now it was yellow and staticky and not a pure black. Like how when you closed your eyes, it wasn't actually as dark as the midst of night. Static, but brighter than normal. Red and green and yellow and sometimes blue.

It was cool for a bit, like his own personal fireworks show. But he was getting impatient now. And hungry. And thirsty. He wished Aion and Amos had stayed. They were cool, why did he think they would hurt him? What if the next people to come were worse? What if Aracelis came back?

He wished Beth and Shawn would come back too. Had they gotten killed? They were only supposed to scout for a little bit, they said. The second announcement hadn't said anything about them. Or Aracelis, unfortunately. But they must've gotten caught up somewhere. They had his bags, his food and his water, so they wouldn't have left him, especially not Beth. They were scouting, they said, trying to find some place safer. That wouldn't take an entire day, right? They must have gotten lost. Or, Aracelis might've gotten to them. Right, that might be what happened to them. Aracelis got them. That bitch.

Or, maybe they got lost. That would be better. Because if they were lost, then they wouldn't be dead. And then they might come back, and that would be good, because he liked them. Even Shawn.

He hoped they got here soon.

He was hungry.

--

Przemek had once taken a flight with his parents to Warsaw, back when they still liked him. And Przemek hadn't eaten the morning before even though Mom told him to because he was so excited, and when he was excited sometimes he felt like throwing up, and he didn't want to throw up. So he didn't eat the whole morning, and then they boarded their flight, and he expected they would serve airline food which he was excited for because he'd never had airline food, but his parents were cheap and got a budget airline, so they didn't have food even though it was an 8 hour flight. And then, they decided to take the train to Wroclaw, and they didn't get food on the train or before the train because Mom said they were almost there and why waste money? And by the time they got to Wroclaw it was 11 PM and all the restaurants were closed so they just went into their grandmother's house and went to sleep, and so Przemek had gone the entire day without eating.

This felt worse.

Worse times a million.

--

There was a sick squelch somewhere nearby.

Przemek had huddled himself into a corner, arms wrapped around his knees, trying to breathe small.

He really hoped they didn't find him.

--

They didn't find him. It was quiet now.

Was it night? Night looked the same as morning. Probably did even if he wasn't blind.

He couldn't sleep anymore. He missed sleep. Things were hurting worse. Do you want to know what he felt and how he felt it?

Needles in his eyes. Like Aracelis stomping his face into the bat again and again and again.

Like the worst cry he'd ever had, like when his parents found out about his drug use and almost disowned him, but worse.

Like the time he'd poured an entire bottle of eye drops onto his eye on a dare, but worse.

Back when they were friends, Przemek had complained to Aracelis about a headache he was having. And she responded by kicking him in the shin. Said the pain there would distract from his headache.

The needles in his eyes did not distract from the warm pain in his arms did not distract from the gnawing hole in his stomach did not distract from the fire in his throat did not distract from the heat in his body and his head and his everywhere did not distract from the where the FUCK were Shawn and Beth didn't even leave him with his FUCKING painkillers. Pain on pain on pain on pain on pain.

He wanted to throw up, but there was nothing to throw up anymore.

Needles, needles, fire, needles.

Needles.

--

Maybe Beth was busy trying to bring Aracelis back. Maybe they had captured her, and it was taking a long time because they were dragging her across the island. Maybe they were bringing her here, to the mines, and then Przemek could do what he wanted. Maybe he could use her own bat on her, hit her in the face and the body and the face again for good measure. Maybe he could stomp on her. Maybe he could punch and kick and claw at her. He could do anything, and God would forgive him for it because it was right and it was just. God forgave the troops for killing their enemies, and God would forgive Przemek for killing his.

Maybe that's what they were doing.

That's what they had to be doing.

No justice here but our own, Beth had told him.

If Beth had left him, then who would get justice for him?

--

Another announcement had gone by. No mention of Beth, Shawn. No mention of Aracelis.

His stomach hurt.

His throat hurt.

They left him, didn't they?

He would have cried, but then it would've just hurt more.

There were more sounds in the distance, more clangs of feet against metal walkways. More voices that weren't Beth or Shawn.

Arms still wrapped around his knees, he slowly tipped over to his side, and remained quiet.

((Przemeslaw Ziemiak continues in She said, "Don't make others suffer for your personal hatred."))