by Cory Mccoy
For nearly one hundred days I had been sealed within myself, with only my nightmares to keep me company. As my body shut down in order to save itself, I walked through wastelands of my mind crying out, begging for someone to hear me.
I had no way of tracking the time, the silence became unbearable. Somehow, I knew I was not dead, yet not quite alive. The dreams were always the same, always filled with death and loss. Each day I watched the world be reborn only to burn once more. I stood helplessly to the side as millions walked unknowingly toward their ends. As a shadow stole life from the innocent and massacred the weak. And I knew that this shadow was me, that I had caused all of this. This was my punishment, eternal torment for the lives I had taken. God did not care about justification, he would punish us all equally. In my heart, I knew that I deserved this.
If I were not dead, then I had to be somewhere I reasoned. The only explanation being that the PLA had taken my body and attached me to machines in order to use me as a puppet. Perhaps, I was some kind of leverage. Would the Resistance falter if they knew of my condition? No, I told myself, never.
In my mind the days melted away becoming months and years. It seemed like decades since I had last seen the light of day. I imagined myself drowning in a frozen lake, trapped under a sheet of ice. Fighting furiously to break through, but it was all in vain.
After what seemed like decades or centuries, for whatever inexplicable reason, God decided to unshackle me. That I must go back, condemned to keep repeating my sins. Perhaps, he was only preparing me for the greater punishment I would receive when I finally did die.
Chapter 28
