I opened my eyes? I think I did. Everything was dark, and I couldn't move. I tried to roll over, but felt a sharp pain in my back—a bite. There must have been insects; that's what I figured.
After the pain in my limbs subsided, I stood up, placing my hand against a wall. I needed to get my bearings in all that darkness, so I began to measure the room with my steps: six steps wide, seven long. As for the height, even though I could barely jump, I couldn't touch the ceiling. Still, I could feel a different texture on one of the walls—iron.
I was in a stone room, with no sound or light, and with what felt like an iron door—I was in a cell.
At that moment, many questions raced through my head: When? How? Why? Who? Each was answered with silence—a silence so deep I could hear my own heartbeat and the insects crawling on the floor. My sense of hearing was already beginning to replace my eyes.
Hunger didn't take long to set in, but I could endure it—it was either that or the insects, and I wasn't at that point yet; I didn't think I'd be so desperate, but hunger is always followed by thirst, and I could feel my tongue drying out. I had no choice left. I grabbed a handful of insects—they were wriggling and biting my hand: a beetle, a centipede, and others. I hesitated, but the centipede's bite made me angry enough to eat it.
It was disgusting; I could feel them moving in my throat and biting the inside of it. I fell to the ground, clutching my neck and trying to cough. It was a horrible pain, as if the inside of my throat were burning. I lay there on the floor—I don't know for how long—two hours? Five? In that darkness, my internal clock was useless.
I was furious. I swore I'd make whoever locked me in that cell suffer a thousand times more; I'd make them eat the same insects through their eyes. And in that moment, the idea of escaping… came to mind—something I hadn't even tried yet.
I got up, euphoric, and headed toward that iron door. The impact against the wall calmed me, and I began tapping the door all over until, with one movement, the door made a noise—click—and a blinding light blinded me.