Application
Title: Soulless
Status: Applicant
Genre: Angst, suspense
Word count: 891
***
I keep on running in an endless maze. However, whether it is them or myself I am running away from, I have no idea. I only know I want away. ...Far, far away where no one can reach me.
“And what’s your profession?” The officer asked me rigorously, with a hint of mockery shining through.
“I am a researcher, sir.” I kept on staring at an invisible spot on the wall, determined not to let my voice waver.
“A researcher? Ha! So you’re yet another who’s escaped proper work in our society.” He encircled me like an eagle its prey while eyeing me with obvious repulsion. “It’s people just like you who make this country rotten.” I’d never been so insulted in my life. I may well hold a degree in science, but I’ve also worked in a farm ever since the age of nine. The officer on the other hand looked like he’d never even seen work. Before I knew it I had already opened my mouth.
“Judging from the young officer’s shoulders, physical work hasn’t plagued him too much either.” This earned me a hard slap on the face.
“And that was the last time you show us disrespect.” He spat before facing the guards. “Guys, get Marlo here. This young lady craves for some flogging.”
I don’t know what I had expected, yet it took me by surprise. How many women and children had they tortured before my arrival? Back in the row a young woman shouted in objection. I had barely turned around when I already heard the gunshot that penetrated her body. Something inside me turned to ice. Dead. She had died because of me.
Once on the cold stone floor with my limbs stretched out, I could only think of that woman. Every blow I took was for her. If this was a way to atone for my sins, I would take it.
When I wake up, I still feel the whip lashes vividly on my back.
I’m tired. Not even during the night can I sleep without being haunted by nightmares and flashbacks. I want to rest - I need to rest - but I cannot. Sometimes I fall into an uneasy slumber, not knowing whether it is daylight or the howl in the night that has woken me up. This anxious feeling is taking control of my entire being, compelling me to keep my guard all the time. If someone could bestow me even a moment’s rest, I would be happy. …Or would I? Happiness is one of those ludicrous notions I’ve never really understood.
I clutch my chest as another flashback enters my mind. This time it features myself and a middle-aged man, whom I had come to respect more than any being.
We were almost there. I turned to look at Numa one last time.
“Have you remembered to put out the lights?” I asked to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything relevant.
There was an ominous silence. When he spoke he wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“…Don’t worry. Everything’s been taken care of.” It was then I realized he had no intention of leaving in the first place. He was going to give himself up in order to let us to escape.
Alas, there is no cure for remorse. When I think about my current life in the shadows and my time in imprisonment, I realize what a fool I’ve been. I was the only one among my friends to survive, and what for? I did not deserve it. In fact, I should have died right there on that damn stone floor, so that this sordid world wouldn’t have to bear with me. …But no. I have been chained to live this life until the last vigor has been drained out of me.
I have nothing but this morbid fear of mine. To make things worse, I’m not entirely sure what I’m afraid of. That they’ll track me down? That I’ll get sent back to the internment camp? And yet, somehow, I could even withstand it. Because at least I wouldn’t be alone. But I cannot risk the lives of my beloved ones any more.
Eyes. Hundreds of them, never leaving my frame.
Someone is constantly watching, breaking little by little into the remnants of my personal space. That I know and that I hate, for if this continues any longer, what will become of me? I have already lost myself to something completely unknown.
As I look into my reflection I find unfamiliar eyes staring back at my own. Skin bleak like that of a specter, dark circles under the eyes and a gaze abysmal like the depths of an ocean. Who is this woman? I ask myself, only to realize that it is I. Or rather, a raw and alien depiction of what is left of me.
I am becoming mad. And the worst thing is that I am aware of it. I can only watch and follow as the last pieces of sanity are being ripped off like petals from a fragile flower.
And so… no intruder, no carnal threat wounds me more than the thing I have come to fear the most. Myself.
Status: Applicant
Genre: Angst, suspense
Word count: 891
***
I keep on running in an endless maze. However, whether it is them or myself I am running away from, I have no idea. I only know I want away. ...Far, far away where no one can reach me.
“And what’s your profession?” The officer asked me rigorously, with a hint of mockery shining through.
“I am a researcher, sir.” I kept on staring at an invisible spot on the wall, determined not to let my voice waver.
“A researcher? Ha! So you’re yet another who’s escaped proper work in our society.” He encircled me like an eagle its prey while eyeing me with obvious repulsion. “It’s people just like you who make this country rotten.” I’d never been so insulted in my life. I may well hold a degree in science, but I’ve also worked in a farm ever since the age of nine. The officer on the other hand looked like he’d never even seen work. Before I knew it I had already opened my mouth.
“Judging from the young officer’s shoulders, physical work hasn’t plagued him too much either.” This earned me a hard slap on the face.
“And that was the last time you show us disrespect.” He spat before facing the guards. “Guys, get Marlo here. This young lady craves for some flogging.”
I don’t know what I had expected, yet it took me by surprise. How many women and children had they tortured before my arrival? Back in the row a young woman shouted in objection. I had barely turned around when I already heard the gunshot that penetrated her body. Something inside me turned to ice. Dead. She had died because of me.
Once on the cold stone floor with my limbs stretched out, I could only think of that woman. Every blow I took was for her. If this was a way to atone for my sins, I would take it.
When I wake up, I still feel the whip lashes vividly on my back.
I’m tired. Not even during the night can I sleep without being haunted by nightmares and flashbacks. I want to rest - I need to rest - but I cannot. Sometimes I fall into an uneasy slumber, not knowing whether it is daylight or the howl in the night that has woken me up. This anxious feeling is taking control of my entire being, compelling me to keep my guard all the time. If someone could bestow me even a moment’s rest, I would be happy. …Or would I? Happiness is one of those ludicrous notions I’ve never really understood.
I clutch my chest as another flashback enters my mind. This time it features myself and a middle-aged man, whom I had come to respect more than any being.
We were almost there. I turned to look at Numa one last time.
“Have you remembered to put out the lights?” I asked to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything relevant.
There was an ominous silence. When he spoke he wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“…Don’t worry. Everything’s been taken care of.” It was then I realized he had no intention of leaving in the first place. He was going to give himself up in order to let us to escape.
Alas, there is no cure for remorse. When I think about my current life in the shadows and my time in imprisonment, I realize what a fool I’ve been. I was the only one among my friends to survive, and what for? I did not deserve it. In fact, I should have died right there on that damn stone floor, so that this sordid world wouldn’t have to bear with me. …But no. I have been chained to live this life until the last vigor has been drained out of me.
I have nothing but this morbid fear of mine. To make things worse, I’m not entirely sure what I’m afraid of. That they’ll track me down? That I’ll get sent back to the internment camp? And yet, somehow, I could even withstand it. Because at least I wouldn’t be alone. But I cannot risk the lives of my beloved ones any more.
Eyes. Hundreds of them, never leaving my frame.
Someone is constantly watching, breaking little by little into the remnants of my personal space. That I know and that I hate, for if this continues any longer, what will become of me? I have already lost myself to something completely unknown.
As I look into my reflection I find unfamiliar eyes staring back at my own. Skin bleak like that of a specter, dark circles under the eyes and a gaze abysmal like the depths of an ocean. Who is this woman? I ask myself, only to realize that it is I. Or rather, a raw and alien depiction of what is left of me.
I am becoming mad. And the worst thing is that I am aware of it. I can only watch and follow as the last pieces of sanity are being ripped off like petals from a fragile flower.
And so… no intruder, no carnal threat wounds me more than the thing I have come to fear the most. Myself.