Interlude - Broken

"Is he broken?"

The question pierced through the silence that had long accompanied him. He was sure that he had been dead, and that this was Hell. To live out the end of eternity in nothing but silence, in his own private little coffin.

But the voice, the voice that was loud and strong and frightening, convinced him that he was still here, still alive, still in the game. The game, yeah. Wasn't everything in life a game? You won some, you lost even more.

The voice frightened him, was this voice a good thing, or a bad? Was it someone that someone had come to end his suffering? Or someone else, cruel, to prolong it?

He doubted he would ever answer his own questions; he was surprised he had even lasted long enough to hear this voice. He took this sign, that this is what he had held on for.

Why he was still alive.

He would be taken out of this place, this horrible, dark, silent, place.

A brilliant light interrupted his thoughts, blinding him. He would have raised his arms to block the light, but he no longer had the strength. He remembered once being strong, strong, and brave, and loved. He often wondered if these things were dreams, dreamt up by his unconscious mind to taunt him at what he no longer had.

What he had lost.

The piercing light dissipated, as an object moved in front of it to stop its path. He saw a man, not old, but not young, a man who looked kind, so he closed his eyes, trusting himself to this stranger.

He did not open his eyes, when he was heaved out of his stone coffin by his ankles, arms trailing behind him.

He did not open his eyes, when he felt the hands of another, brushing over his body, checking for signs of life.

He did not open his eyes, when the man, a doctor he presumed, pronounced him ready, whatever that meant.

He did not open his eyes, when his mouth was opened and he felt cool liquid trickling in. Coughing and spluttering, his stomach heaving, not able to cope with this after being so long without water.

He did not open his eyes, when he was lifted, placed onto a table, and a tube inserted into his arm, and another into his nose.

Then there was silence again. And he screamed. He could no longer stand the silence, and could barely stand the darkness in front of his eyes. He heard feet tapping on the floor, and voices taking the place of the silence. Soothing voices, nice voices. They stayed with him, speaking to him softly, not letting him go back to that place.

Understanding.

And he opened his eyes, and saw a man, a stranger, but familiar. The man who pulled him out of that place, the man who saved him.

The man smiled with friendly eyes, said he was safe, and called him "Jack."