Source
darkness envelops me, crushing and endless. I have lost track of time in this stone tomb. My screams have died away, my throat is raw from howling for help.
Hunger is a dull and distant pain, eclipsed by the burning thirst that consumes me. My tongue feels parched like a piece of leather, my cracked lips bleed when I try to moisten them. Each swallow of saliva is like tearing my throat.
My fingers are raw from clawing uselessly at these smooth walls looking for a way out. I have walked every inch of this confinement so many times that I have a mental map engraved on it, even though the darkness doesn't allow me to see anything.
At times, I think I hear noises on the other side: footsteps, muffled voices? But I can no longer tell whether it is real or a mere hallucination, the product of my mind going mad in the eternal blackness.
I have tried to count the seconds, the minutes, but inevitably I lose count. Time has become an abstract concept in this cell without clocks or cycles of day and night.
I can only wait for death, accompanied only by the beating of my own heart like an hourglass running out of time. Submerged in the infinite darkness, cut off from the outside world, forgotten about existence itself.
