Chapter 18: Footsteps of Insanity

Carlos Almasy

Carlos was alone. He wasn't lonely, though, just exhausted and bored. Every single day was as uneventful as the previous one. This gave him time to swim through his thoughts. He didn't like it. It felt like every minute alone with his own psyche brought him that much closer to insanity, until the sound of footsteps from outside snap him back to where he was. The footsteps bring him back to reality. Then, he would wonder. His mind would think of how Leonhart can stand being so aloof all the time and figured that the reason he was a bit messed up was because he spent too much time with his thoughts.

He had no knowledge of the time he spent in his metallic cell. The walls would heat up during the day, be as cold as ice in the night, and smell of rust when it rained. It was its own kind of torture, counting the days with different experiences of pain. He didn't care though. He was fine. Footsteps would talk with voices just beyond the thin metallic walls. They would talk about how he'd be cracking soon. He told himself it was not going to happen.

He heard footsteps again, disturbing the trains that repeat their collisions in his mind. The footsteps were heavy. He figured it was the same routine. The footsteps would get closer and closer until they open the door. It would stop right in front of the young blonde, right where he could see its face. It would ask him to get up. He would oblige, for he knew what would happen if he didn't. The first time it took him, he asked where they were going.

"None of your business." It would say.

By now, he just got used to it. They used to take him every other day. He would know if it was Monday or Tuesday when the footsteps take him or not. Now, they were more relentless. Silently, the footsteps would beat him up. Dark bruises proved this. Then, the footsteps would restrain him to a cold metal wall. From then, they would speak. Questions were thrown at his face and the answers evaded his mind.

It felt excruciating at first. The bruises start to burn as the numbing heat passed through his body. He would feel his nerves shake and scream. He didn't know where Garden was. Or where Leonhart is. He didn't know anything.

By now the pain was more bearable. He figured it was because his nerves were damaged.

"You better give up already, boy, or you'll be joining that angel sooner than you think."

He would hear the footsteps talk about the angel when he wouldn't answer. It didn't make sense to him. Footsteps aren't supposed to make sense, though. He didn't care for them. He knew he was going to die there, so might as well make sure that they wasted their energy on him. He was fine with dying, as long as Sylphia was safe.

He missed his sorceress. Thoughts of her brought more torture and pain. He longed for her warm embrace, her white hair that reflected moonlight with silver elegance, her beautiful heart-shaped face, her perfect angelic smile. He was her knight. She was his angel.

He felt another shockwave pulse through his weakened body as his thoughts brought him back. The footsteps moved closer at the sight of Carlos struggling to lift his head. His lips were dry but they were capable of speaking.

"Is... she... dead?"

It gave no answer. Instead it asked another question he wasn't capable of responding to.

"Where is Garden?" The last question of the day. He realized the footsteps never asked about Sylphia. Painful tears fell from his dry eyes as the thought that he was holding back made its way to his consciousness. They never asked about her because they knew she was gone.

Everything made sense in the midst of insanity. Even the sounds that footsteps make against the cold metallic floors became words.

The numbness he felt from the current didn't help his pain. He was going to crack. The footsteps were right. The metal clasps that held his wrists disappeared and he dropped to his knees. The footsteps walked towards him and lifted him up.

"Tomorrow will be your day."

That was when he had enough. Reality slapped him back with an impact that was more painful than the electricity. He lifted his head up and his blue eyes met the guard's. Bruises on his lips weren't enough to stop him from talking. He knew he was going to get in trouble, but it didn't matter. He wasn't going to snap. For Sylphia. For Garden.

"I'm not giving you the satisfaction."