"Wicked heart; evil design"
I used to be a normal, if a tad secluded, sixteen-year-old. And then I died. And was born again.
Unsuspecting, I was born into hell.
Circumstance
Mistake I: Ignorance
I say there is no darkness but ignorance.
-William Shakespeare
I cannot say when I first became aware of my imprisonment. As such, I cannot speculate, except on the broadest of terms, as to the extent of time I was conscious in my cage. I do, however, remember everything of my time in limbo, where I was unable to move, to breathe, to cry.
At first, there was nothing to do but think, try to remember how I got where I was, but my memories of the last time I was free were hazy at best; the most I could make out was the smell of cinnamon and dried leaves, and blue eyes. I worked myself into a frenzy, picking apart my brain for some clue. It was an entirely fruitless endeavor, and, after a while, I grew sick of the train of thought and gave up.
I tried music as well. I played my favorite songs in my head, over and over, until they were so compacted in there that they all merged together into a mishmosh of thought and song. I forgot myself in my cycle of despair and self-pity and loneliness and terror.
I lost myself. I thought myself in hell [and I gave up].
...[who am I?]
.
The cage shrank as time passed (or did I grow?) and I could physically feel myself taking shape, growing bigger, stronger. I regained some of my mobility, and fancied that I could hear a voice, distorted and dampened, yet somehow soothing. As I solidified I began to collect my fragmented thoughts, reform myself, foster the hope that one day, I would be able to escape. I grew to the point that I could feel the edge of my prison.
But I didn't stop growing. I took to kicking and punching at my cage whenever I could muster the strength. More and more, I became aware of the walls that were squeezed into me, and became more and more fearful that one day the cage would grow too small and I could be crushed.
[though, would it even matter?]
.
An indeterminate time later, I was successful. With one final kick, I burst through the wall of my cage. But-
I wasn't free. I wasn't free.
It was still dark. There were still walls.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to cry.
This isn't fair!
Why me?
Where am I?
Would I ever escape?
I thrashed about, unleashing my frustration. Mercilessly, I pounded on the new walls. Let me out of here!
And then I felt the walls of my cage contract. I froze in horror. My worst fear had been realized-I was going to be crushed.
No! I don't want to die-
and then, I recommenced my escape efforts. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. I kicked again, and, to my surprise, part of wall broke open. I kicked it again, and again, and again. I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die Let me out Let me out Let me out-
From behind closed lids, my eyes detected light. At first, I didn't believe it- I had spent too much time in captivity, maybe these new developments had caused me to hallucinate.
But then, I felt something grabbing me- this feeling... plastic?- and lifting me from the hell I had been trapped in. Something was cut off from me, and I could feel my lungs begin to work, taking in air for the first time in a long time.
It was then that everything I had gone through- the immobility, the loneliness, the darkness, the silence, the absolute hopelessness of the place that sucked away at my marrow and ate away at my mind, rushed up, mixing with my disbelief, my hope, my euphoria (I'm free!), and I began to cry.
.
[It was only later, after I realized that I had been reborn, that I understood the truth.]
I had been in a woman's stomach.
That woman was my mother.
All my frantic kicks and punches had caused her an extreme amount of pain.
The second wall I broke through was her uterus.
…
Why was everything so red?
A/N: Alright, so I'm restarting this fic, because the first chapter of this was actually terrible originally. I'm going to go a little slower this time. To my one reviewer, thank you for reminding me of what I had forgotten.