Locked Down

I was so tired. Whatever energizing spark had kept me going up to this point was just gone.

I stared up at the ceiling of my cell – which it was, no matter how comfortable – and simply existed for a while. I could barely remember why I'd been doing what I'd been doing. There certainly wasn't any reason to pick it up again.

The setting sun streamed in through the window, casting the room into an orange haze. A few doves cooed outside, settling in for sleep on the ledge. That sounded like a really good idea.

I couldn't fall asleep, though. I watched as the sunlight on the ceiling cooled and faded, leaving the room in utter darkness. I'm not sure how much time passed. I didn't really care.

They had said I'd been “locked down”. I had thought that meant I was being put away somewhere I couldn't hurt anybody, where they could keep an eye on me. As the hours passed, filled with exhaustion and yet not a moment of sleep, I began to suspect it meant something more.

It was a time of stasis. Like nothing about me could change or was allowed to change. Time barely existed.

It's still not clear to me how I ever broke out.