"You don't learn from successes; you don't learn from awards; you don't learn from celebrity; you only learn from wounds and scars and mistakes and failures. And that's the truth."
- Jane Fonda
There it was again. The continuing sound of water hitting the metal floor.
The air smelling of blood, sweat, and fear mixed together into an unbearable atmosphere.
He didn't know how long he stayed within darkness.
Days? Weeks? Months? Years?
He only wanted his brother there so he could hear his joyful laugh and see his warm, bright, smile.
He only wanted to feel his mother's gentle arms wrapped around his small frame in her loving embrace.
He even wanted to hear the strong, stern voice of his father echo through the darkness.
He only wanted his family,
….but they wouldn't come.
Did they even notice their son's abrupt absence?
Heimdall must have seen him by now, but still there was nothing.
Moving seemed near impossible with the tight chain around the boy's small neck, wrists, and ankles. There was no more pain left to feel in his once aching body, leaving it numb and weak.
Nobody ever came in, but he knew they were there on the other side of the wall.
Watching.
He didn't care anymore. There was nothing to care about other than the darkness that had no sound, or even warmth or cold. A drifting darkness with only the sound of water hitting the metal floor presuming as the only company for the fading boy within it.