Fallon
After the first couple of days, time loses all meaning. The days blur together, each one a repeat of the last. The only sign of life is the occasional tray of food slid through a small slot in the door—barely enough to keep me alive.
At night, when the cold becomes unbearable, and my stomach feels like it’s eating itself from the inside out, I sing. It’s the only thing that keeps me from losing myself in the dark, the only way to drown out the silence that threatens to drive me mad. Just like Grandma would drive me crazy, taunting me through the closed door.
“In the dark where shadows creep,
Little firefly takes her leap,
Wings aglow, she dances light,
Unaware of the spider’s sight.”
My voice is soft and trembling. Right now, it’s all I have. The words echo off the stone wal
