Darkness

She sat. Her white shift draped over her as she waited. Her surroundings enveloped her. The walls were indistinguishable from the floor, built with darkness. Her cell would be called black, if not for the total lack of color that settled about her. The rough hewn rocks had a way of draining away anything that called itself life from a body. The surface of the walls and floor were hard, but not cold. The heavy stone bench dispassionately supported her little body as she sat numbly losing track of time. It offered no comfort, no hope of solace.

The Voice waited. It knew her inner turmoil, boiling inside her. It knew her own thoughts would gnaw at her very foundation of sanity. Still it waited

She had let her head hang, letting her hair fall with gravity, not one dark hair moved. She tried to listen to her heartbeat, some little ray of hope, but she could not hear it. The only noise was her short gasps, but she could not hear that either. The sounds in her mind were the only thing she could hear. Her mind was slowly churning with thoughts. Dark thoughts, ones that stabbed fear into her very core.

The voice was waiting for her to move, show some indication she was on the verge of breaking. It's patience was eternal, it had no need for metering time, it just waited. Knowing it's time would come.

Her thoughts never stopped. They kept playing over and over in her mind, taking different shapes trying to pursuade her she can find a solution, find a way to wander out of this labyrinth. Distant hums of conversation eerily begged her to hear them, to understand what they wanted from her. The first drip of sweat crossed her brow and ran the length of her nose waiting to drip.

The Voice sees it starting, oh the anticipated moment was nearly here. Her hair was damp from perspiration. The first little shakes made her hair do a jerky dance. Just a little more time to wait, oh it's nearly here.

The shift was clinging to her shaking shoulders. Her hands in balled up fists, her nails dug into the palm of her hands. She couldn't keep what was suppose to be real, what was her life and the images she did not understand from intertwining. The thoughts danced in chaos with no order. A small whimper escaped her lips.

The room was quiet again. The stone bench was empty. Her frail body lay on the floor, her pale lifeless face pointed into nothingness. Her matted hair clung around her porcelain features, her eyes mercifully closed. The room became more dark, more horrible. The Voice knew it was the only way to survive.