by Jeanne Genevive A.
Pillejera
What
happened? He groaned. PAIN. He felt pain all over. He groaned as he turned to
lie on his back. What happened? He
opened his eyes slowly, and nothing. He couldn’t see anything. He winced as he
tried to sit up, his vertebra sending out all sorts of pain sensations, echoing
at his coccyx as he sat down. What on earth
happened? He looked around again. Nothing. Nothing but darkness. What happened? The last thing he
remembered was… The gun! There was a gun. Why is he still alive? He was pretty
sure he was going to die… Why didn’t he? What happened? Everything seems so
hazy. He winced at his throbbing temporals. He can’t remember anything after
that gun. What happened? He reached
for his head and heard them. Chains! He jumped the hit his frontal on the stone
floor. Chains. Chains bound him. Shackled to his carpus, his tarsus, his hyoid…
What was happening? He tried to
scream for help. He can’t. Something was over his mouth. Something that wasn’t
a gag. Something hard. Something clamping his mandible to his maxilla. He
looked aroud, his eyes are adjusting to the darkness. Nothing. Nothing but
chains. Chains that bound him, anchoring him to this room. He tried to remember
what happened. He forced his brain to remember. He can’t remember. Something
was blocking his memory. He got up slowly, forcing himself on his feet. He groaned
at the pain radiating from his calcaneus and up his tibia and fibula. He groped
the walls. Stone. Everything was wtone. He moved around slowly, looking for a
door, a window. Anything. Stone. Nothing but stone. This room was nothing but
chains and stone. Frustration and panic gripped him.
Then,
a scream. And another. And another. A silver of hope. He walked around the
room, looking for where the sound is loudest. There. He searched the wall. He
felt it. Metal. A mall slit of metal. He took in a deep breath, sent up a small
prayer, and fumbled at it with phalanges. It moved. He held his breath and
moved it a bit more. A little bit more… He blinked several times as light
flooded through the tiney hole. He saw him. The man who screamed. He was on the
ground. Bloodied. His skull cracked acroos the parietal bone. What is happening? He looked around the
room outside. A man was standing over the bloodied corpse. He knew that man. It
was the man who held the gun.
*BANG*
What?!
What was that?
*BANG*
He
was remembering something.
*BANG*
That’s
right. He was shot. That man shot him. But… how? Where was the wound? He looked
out the tiny hole again. He stiffened. The man was looking right at him. No.
The man was smiling at him.
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