I don't know how long I've been down here for. All I know is that my sanity is trickling away, and not particularly slowly either. Since staying awake leads to my own mind torturing itself, I attempt to sleep. But even then I can't escape, as the nightmares begin. Dogs chasing me relentlessly, whilst I attempt to escape with that horrible nightmare running that feels as if you're wading through honey. Of course I don't escape, and they catch me and tear into me with those sharp fangs... I awake with a sharp pain in my head. Obviously I had jerked and smashed into the wall. I sit up and realise my hands are covered in gunk. Oh yes, I remember now. A while ago one of the Blacksuits had opened the hatch. My hopes had soared and I had leapt up ready to be released, squinting at the light but feeling elated. But they had just laughed and chucked down a tray of slop before slamming the trapdoor shut again.
At the time, some small part of my brain had told me that meant I had likely been in there for two days. But now, I have no idea how long ago that was. I lick the slop off my fingers, stomach growling for more. I curl up once again on the floor and stare at the invisible ceiling. I raise my hand in front of my face and squint, trying to see it. Nothing but darkness. I sigh, but decide I may as well try and make this period of lucidity last as long as possible. I search around the floor until I find a chunk of rock that I had managed to break off the wall some time ago. Idly, I chip away at the floor. It achieves nothing, but it keeps me occupied at least. And sometimes, just sometimes, I create a spark. The small flash of light reminds me that I'm still alive and I haven't gone insane yet. Plus, even though I'm not even making a dent in the floor, it kind of feels like I'm on my way to escape. Like I'm digging my way out of here. I know it's not true and it's stupid to even consider it, but it's better than nothing. Better than going insane.
My thoughts wander, and I find myself wondering how Jake is holding up. Will it be worse for him because he hasn't been in the hole and didn't know what to expect? Or better, because he hasn't had to go through this once already? However thinking about Jake only results in making me feel guilty. It's my fault he's down here, after all. He didn't do anything to deserve this. Actually, come to think of it, why is he in Furnace anyway? I can't imagine him committing a single crime. He was probably framed like me, I speculate, and make a mental note to ask him what happened. That's if he ever decides to talk to me again. I won't blame him if he doesn't. I've already got him into deep trouble. The blame is entirely mine, just as it was my fault about Callum...
My chipping at the floor becomes faster and more erratic as my downward spiral of thoughts begin. I'm fully aware of what's happening, but don't care enough to stop it. So I'm going insane. So what? Nothing matters really. Maybe I deserve this anyway. I've caused so much pain and grief to others... A sharp pain in my hand jolts me back into reality. I look down, even though I can't see anything. I move my hands and realise that as I was chipping at the floor, I had accidentally slammed the stone into my hand. I drop the stone and cradle my injured hand, which must be bleeding because it feels wet and sticky. As the rock hits the floor, it clangs against the metal grill I'm supposed to use as a toilet. I freeze, and slowly reach out for it. It's not there. I panic and spread my hands out on the floor looking for it. But it's no use. I've dropped it down the grill. I sit there for a minute, put my head in my hands, and begin to cry.
It was such a small thing, but it pushed me over the edge. That piece of rock was completely worthless. But it's just another thing on the list of things that have gone wrong for me. Now I'm stuck down here and I don't even have my small distraction from my misery.
I shut my eyes and breathe deeply. No. There's no point getting upset over something this small. I wipe my face, and feel the walls for another loose shard of rock. Until I find one, this can be my new distraction. I find a part that sticks out, wrap my hands around it, and tug hard. It doesn't budge. I keep tugging harder and harder, with still no results. My hands begin to get sore but I continue yanking at the rock. I feel it start to give and pull even harder. Eventually there's a loud crack and the rock snaps. I fall backwards, hit my head painfully on the side of my cell and landed on my bum. But I had done it. I had a new piece of rock to play with. After that physical exertion however, I was exhausted. I decided to reward myself with a nap. I place the stone carefully down next to me and curl up on the floor.
I awake later, as usual unaware about how long I've been asleep. I know I had nightmares while I was out, but fortunately I can't remember them. All that's left is a sense of dread. I reach out and grasp the rock that I pulled off the wall, then begin my work chipping it on the side of the cell, trying to make a precious spark. The rock is a slightly different shape from the one I had before, so it takes me a while to get the hang of it again. Eventually I get quite good at it and manage sparks about 1 in 10 tries. Each tiny flash was just enough to light up a corner of the cell. I could see, if only for a millisecond. I kept doing this for hours, maybe even days, until the trapdoor opened and the entire cell was flooded with light.
Thankfully, I climbed out of the cell. A few metres away from me, Jake was already out of his, standing there pale and shaking. He glanced at me, then quickly looked away when he realised I was looking at him. Pure guilt flooded me. But we were out. That was the important thing. I breathed a sigh of relief and almost smiled as the Blacksuit guided us back to our cell.
