End of a Line

Michael Butzer

Day 162: I honestly dont know how much longer I can take this. Its not every day that they take me out, but its often enough. I can feel myself fraying, little by little, each and every time they stretch, twist, and abuse me. The pain is almost unbearable. I beg for release. The tension; how can they not feel it? Every piece of me is screaming at them, yelling, Stop! Stop! Please, no more of this. I can only hope the torment ends soon. Day 163: Rest. I am grateful. Not necessarily to those who control me, but I dont really know whom else I could thank. I feel like Im shrinking, all of the bits that had been pulled and yanked attempting to regroup before theyre made to bear the weight of our mad oppressors again. The future is grim. There is no real reprieve. Day 164: Again, no activity from the outside world. I lay here in the darkness, considering how I ended up here. Before this hell, I was in a bright world, full of interesting people who, though I never got to know them very well, always looked happy as they went about their day. I mostly just hung around, seeing where things would take me, pretty much a carefree existence. But then the unthinkable happened. A day came where someone grabbed me, roughly bundling me with several of my companions (whom I have not seen since. I fear for their safety). I was stuffed into a sack, and the next thing I knew the torture began. That was months ago. Now, Im at wits end. Soon though, it will be over, and I can be at peace. I hope this day comes soon. Day 165: No activity. My mind grows numb, for all I can do is wait in blind fear for them to come and take me again. Day 166: The door opened briefly today, letting a short burst of light in along with the terror. I held in my screams; they would fall on deaf ears anyway. The door closed without them touching me, so I suppose thats ok. Day 167: Nothing. I wait. Life is meaningless.

Day 168: The door has opened. I fear they are taking me, for possibly the last time. I am strangely at peace. No screaming, no struggle. Typically I try to snag onto objects as I pass by them, thinking maybe if I can just hold on long enough I wont be taken. Not today. I accept my fate, and welcome whatever the end of this day will bring. Im weak. I can feel myself breaking, feel crucial internal structures giving away as my tormentors relentlessly brutalize me. Theyve been at it for hours today. Ive been secured with anchors at one end, and theres dead weight on the other, inexorably pulling, bending me in ways I cant handle anymore. Im reaching the end of my line. The pain is almost gone now, oddly. Theres just a curious, empty sensation around the area where the pain used to be. There can be only seconds left. Suddenly, snap! Im finished. I can feel the dead weight falling away, from me, yells from my captors signaling their shock and anger at me for denying them their fun. Let them scream. Let their anger fester. I am free. I feel the wind flow over me, caressing the wound and taking away my consciousness. The light fades for the last time. It is the end of a line.