It is dark. Too dark. It only takes seconds to find that out. Opening your eyes to see the clichéd never-ending darkness you always see in movies. But they aren't compared to this kind of Darkness, because in that darkness there's always light at the end of the tunnel. This tunnel doesn't have an end.
Every time you feel a cold stabbing through your stomach or your heart stops beating and there's nowhere else to go: there's always the Darkness coming right after you. You would be fortunate to get away with it, if it didn't get you before you got to your senses and acted before anything else. When you get away, then it won't be the same afterwards.
You'll always try to get away by trying anything: not sleeping at night, keeping yourself in the safest part of Cardiff, getting into a relationship so you can take your mind off those horrible thoughts of loneliness, pain, fear. But as much as you'd like it, you won't get away from the Darkness. Because you've felt it. Yes, you did.
When you were grasped into the nothingness, as you felt you lost yourself in it, there's just nothing afterwards. Maybe that's why they call it the nothingness for. Maybe that's why they call it the Darkness.
You can't see. You can't touch. You can't smell. You can only hear that sinister voice, waiting for someone or something. The only thing you can do then is feel the fear, the sorrow filling your heart and the loneliness making your isolation more striking, because there's nothing left to do.
Every time I've felt that way. But it is moments after I can hear another voice calling. And I am taken into the light…
Then that's when I feel the pain rushing away from my body. I hear voices around me as people pass by me without paying mind. I smell the stench of the alleys of Cardiff and the delicious smell coming from out of the bakeries. But with all of that, what's anyone have to live for anyway? I reach out and touch something. That's when I sit up to see a pair of shoes, following up by a black suit with a red-shirt and a red and black striped tie. Everything worn by the beautiful man standing in front of me as he holds a cup of coffee for me before I wake up from the endless dream.
"A coffee?" Ianto would always ask.
…
Maybe I do have something… or someone to live for.
Hope you liked this supposed-to-be short story, I'm new to short stories, so please I'd like to be reviewed, PLEASE!
