Pounding.

That’s all I hear. Thumping, hammering, pounding. My eyes squint open, only to squeeze shut again. The diatonic white was revolting. I can’t stand white. White is pure, white is innocent, white is clean, white is safe. I am not safe and I am not innocent. Not anymore. I feel—nothing. There is nothing left for me to feel anymore. I am empty….a shell of what, of who, I used to be. But I hear, everything, all the cruel, callous, licentious images They evoke. There is nothing left of me, I don’t know why I’m still here. They have taken everything from me, my life, my will, my identity. Who am I? —Even I don’t know anymore?

The air shatters and I jerk, my eyes jolting open, disrupting me from my inner monologue. I haven’t heard a sound so shocking since....since I don’t remember. I brush it off as the sound of another one, like me, that They have taken. Then, in the distance, I hear a faint disturbance. What could it be, is this my sign? And from that muffled sound a spark of hope blossoms deep within.