Retreat

Chapter 2

#author #maryamvalis #retreat #LiteraryFiction #ContemporaryFiction #NovelInProgress #WritersOfInstagram #WritingCommunity #AmWriting #FictionWriters #NewNovel #BookExcerpt 

I was jolted awake in the middle of the night, someone pulling me out of a car.

"Can you walk?" a man asked.  

I didn’t respond.

We arrived at a peculiar building with an unusual, almost otherworldly shape, cloaked in an aura of mystery. I was being supported by two men, one of whom I recognized from the plane. Disoriented, faint, and overwhelmed by dizziness, I stumbled forward, struggling to make sense of my surroundings. We entered through a narrow door and down a long, dim corridor. Suddenly, I was shoved into complete darkness as an automatic sliding door slammed shut behind me. My eyes barely adjusted to the faint light, revealing only a single mattress on the floor before the ominous world sealed itself away from me. Fear gripped me as exhaustion and a pounding headache clouded my thoughts, but one pressing concern overwhelmed it all—I desperately needed to find somewhere to pee. I screamed, calling out for help, but the sound felt trapped, swallowed by the soundproof walls around me. Cowering in the suffocating silence, my heart pounded violently as panic consumed me. The faint glow of a nightlight offered little solace, casting eerie shadows in the void while I lay trembling on the mattress, overwhelmed by the oppressive isolation. And then—nothing.

When I awoke again, it felt like I had emerged from a nightmare, except the horrifying reality remained. I wasn’t in my bed but lying naked and restrained on an unfamiliar floor. Above me, a glass ceiling loomed, revealing the open sky. It stretched endlessly, creating the illusion of an infinite expanse beyond the walls. My mind was blank, devoid of memory of how I ended up here. As I fought to move, I realized my hands and feet were tightly bound. The small room was a stark, sterile prison—a claustrophobic cell surrounded by blank, white, high walls. Its confined dimensions were barely wide enough to stretch out an arm. The overwhelming unfamiliarity of the situation left me numb, as if its incomprehensibility paralyzed my emotions.

Moments later, the mattress beneath me began to shift, rolling unexpectedly. Startled, I instinctively raised my head, only to feel something solid pressing against me. The mattress folded upward, pinning me against a rising wall. Despite the lingering terror of my predicament, I was struck by an odd sensation. My body felt steady, neither dizzy nor sore. Instead, I was vigilant, as if my mind and body had been sharpened amid this surreal, nightmarish ordeal.

Without warning, my thoughts spiraled into chaos. I struggled to rein them in, desperate to regain my composure. The first question that gripped me was, "Why?" Why was I here? How had things spiraled so recklessly out of control? Why now? And most importantly, what was I supposed to do next?

A torrent of questions flooded my mind as I scrambled to make sense of the situation: How could I escape? Was escape even possible? What did they want from me? If their goal was to kill me, why go through the trouble and expense of bringing me here? Could this all be tied to something as horrifying as organ trafficking? 

Cold sweat clung to my skin, and every passing second dragged on, each heavier than the last. The weight of the unknown pressed down on me, making survival feel increasingly impossible.

Desperation consumed me as I searched for a way out of this stifling predicament. My appeals for help vanished into the void, and the oppressive silence cruelly reminded me of my solitude. A sliver of blue sky emerged through the ceiling window—a fragile thread of hope against the backdrop of a grim reality. It was my only tangible anchor, a fleeting promise of solace amid overwhelming isolation.

Every inch of my body trembled as the metal plate beneath me vibrated with a low, ominous hum. Instinctively, I crouched down, every muscle tensing as I waited anxiously for an explanation of this disturbing turn of events. Each second stretched into an eternity, my mind racing with unanswered questions. At last, bound in cuffs, my arms were wrenched upward against my will, and I was forced to stand.

My heart pounded with fear in a world of nonexistent allies, replaced only by rivals and hostility. Who was I in this ocean of enmity? Just a fragile speck of flesh, fumbling for meaning amid the crushing weight of solitude. Trapped in a cramped jail cell, I was wedged into an uncomfortable corner and discarded like an incomplete sketch. Sweat trickled down my face as I sought even a sliver of comfort on the unforgiving metal plate beneath me. Reality felt stifling and relentless, confined like a figure in a cruel sketch, restricted by rigid walls.

I stood on that oppressive metal surface, the heat rising steadily, wrapping around me like an invisible flame. The searing sensation crept through my feet and spread up my legs like the ground beneath me had been set ablaze. Desperately, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, searching for relief, but the scorching heat clung to me, relentless, no matter where I moved.

As the seconds passed, sweat slicked my skin, and a creeping sense of dread took hold—I was losing control. What had begun as a mild warmth had escalated into an unbearable heat. Each breath felt labored, the air searing as it filled my lungs, leaving them aching for relief. I forced myself to take a deep breath, shutting my eyes tightly and gathering enough focus to endure the torment.

After what seemed like hours, though it was likely only minutes, the metal plate mercifully stopped heating. Perhaps it cooled just enough for its intensity to fade. Either way, the torment subsided, granting me a long-awaited moment of relief from the agony I had endured.

The pain had been excruciating, pushing my body to its absolute limits as though I were being pulled apart with no reprieve. My arms quivered under the strain, and beads of sweat traced their way down my face as I hung there, suspended and helpless. The heat seeped through my body, bringing unease far beyond the usual discomfort. And yet, despite the anguish, a stubborn hope lingered—a hope that kept drawing me back to endure it.

Finally, the temperature of the metal plate continued to drop until it became a pleasantly cold sensation against my body—a much-needed relief. Despite feeling incredibly weak at that moment, something inside told me not to give up yet, so with newfound determination, I took one deep breath and regularly breathed. Another wave of dizziness swept over me, making everything around me seem blurry and distorted before finally settling into focus again.

The metal plates continued to cool until I felt like I was freezing from the inside out.

I couldn't help but feel suspicious – why did these people want my body? What exactly were they trying to accomplish? As time passed, my fears grew stronger; something sinister seemed to lurk beneath all this mystery and secrecy. The cold was unbearable, almost like it had a life of its own. My whole body shivered uncontrollably, and my breath seemed to dissipate into nothingness as soon as I exhaled. I knew I would die of exposure if he stayed here much longer.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, desperate for someone—anyone—to come to my aid. But no one came. The persistent buzzing in my ears grew louder, echoing endlessly, as anxiety gripped my entire body. It felt like I had been trapped here for an eternity, though time continued to march around me. No matter how fiercely I fought against it, I could feel myself slowly succumbing to its unyielding power.

Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to channel every ounce of focus into something other than my surroundings or why I was there. But no matter how hard I concentrated, an ominous sense of dread clung to me—a chilling certainty that whatever came next would be irreversible.

My breath quickened as fear burrowed deep into my bones. It was as though something dark and unknowable lingered just beyond the shadows—an entity so powerful that it had halted time itself, waiting in anticipation for what would come.

I had journeyed so far, enduring hardship after another with strength and determination I never believed I possessed. Gradually, my weariness gave way to an unexpected sense of tranquility. Freed from the weight of fear and doubt, my mind felt light and at peace for the first time in what felt like an eternity. But that wasn’t tranquility; I was losing consciousness—a déjà vu moment. Against my will, my vision blurred, and I heard that familiar sound. Then, everything faded. I can’t recall what happened next. Fear had won once again.

When I regained consciousness, a powerful sensation radiated from my soles, spreading through the metal plate beneath me. My hands were once again pinned down, yet the surface no longer felt cold or rigid. Instead, it seemed to murmur, "Relax." The restraints around my wrists and joints held me firmly, almost as if an invisible magnetic force guided them. The pressure was so overwhelming that I couldn’t move a muscle. I was restrained entirely—a captive under flawless control.

In those brief moments, I endured a torrent of anguish and intensity that no one should ever face. With my hands firmly resolved, I arched my back and drew deep, life-giving breaths. For the first time, I felt my lungs working at full capacity, filling me with air.

I hoped this newfound depth of breath would rejuvenate my body, bringing peace to my mind and soul. But it didn’t. Instead, I became acutely aware of the blood coursing through my veins, every pulse echoing. I felt each muscle in my body tighten and release, every movement amplified, as if I were experiencing my body in its rawest, most unfiltered form.

The tiny room was suffocatingly silent, broken only by the pounding rhythm of my heart. I waited for them to speak, but the silence dragged on. My breathing shifted—deliberate and heavy. Each breath echoed in my ears, unfamiliar and unsettling, as if my body were trying to anchor itself amid the chaos.

The metal plate beneath me was rattling, but I remained calm and unconcerned, allowing the vibrations to pass without resistance. This benefited me since my hands stayed still and down, allowing me to remain comfortable. Then, the ground under me quaked with tremendous force before settling into a broiling heat. Sweat drenched my body, evoking memories of laboring under the relentless, suffocating heat of the sun. I felt a chill crawl up my spine as the temperature of my plate decreased, instantly transporting me to a time of snow. Suddenly, all those seemingly forgotten memories came crashing back into my mind: the frozen snow, the chill in the air, and the sheer joy it had given me. 

A profound sense of relief washed over me —I was free. Though my arms remained bound, I arched my back, feeling a sudden surge of energy. My movements were deliberate, my back stretching fluidly, forming graceful arcs against the wall despite the restraints on my wrists. A tingling anticipation danced along my skin as I moved with slow, measured precision, bracing for whatever might come next.

Nothing else happened in those past minutes, so I just looked around. Some walls, ceiling windows, and a view of the lighter blue sky. It came to the tremor of the metal plate shaking, signaling the start of my regular treatment. I had to keep shaking in place, with periods of both warmth and coldness in between. I just hoped that nothing would happen while I was held in place. Even though I wasn't comfortable, I learned how to make the process at least bearable.

I lost track of how many rounds I had completed; everything became a blur. The plate beneath me trembled, sometimes so violently that it was almost excruciating. Heat gave way to cold, followed by a brief moment to catch my breath. Twice, I passed out—both times with my hands clasped over my head, completely powerless. Each time I came to, it was with a sudden, jarring shock, as if an electric current had surged through the metal plate beneath my feet.

And that wasn’t enough. A cramping pain in my stomach began, sharp and unrelenting. Perhaps I was hungry. I called out for help, but instead of assistance, a shutter closed over the ceiling window, plunging everything into darkness. There was nothing left to see, no way to perceive anything.

"Please, just kill me," I screamed, and I meant every word. "I’m begging you, please—just end this. I can’t bear it any longer."

But my voice was absorbed by the walls, swallowed into the silence. I wished for unconsciousness, desperate for an escape. I could no longer focus on breathing or control—everything slipped away as I collapsed. I knew my arms would be forced to rise again, and perhaps unconsciousness would finally claim me, offering a reprieve. Instead, sharp electrical impulses jolted through the soles of my feet, forcing me, through immense effort, to rise again and press myself against the wall. 

"Please, my stomach is killing me. Please, stop!" I screamed, but the emptiness answered. I was alone. It continued, unrelenting. Despite the scorching heat, I no longer felt myself perspiring. I no longer felt like myself at all. All that remained was the overwhelming pain in my stomach and a desperate wish to lose consciousness-or, better yet, to die. Please, God, take me, was the only thought in my mind. But instead of relief, the treatment intensified, growing more relentless. And then, the cooling process began. Freezing, empty, and exhausted, I felt a strange relief when I finally got a break. Leaning against the cold wall in the darkness, I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breath. Then, a thought suddenly crossed my mind: What if I stopped breathing? Maybe, just maybe, I could end it all and escape this unbearable torment. And I stopped. I forced myself not to breathe, to lose consciousness, and to let myself succumb to death. I was desperate. Not just desperate—beyond desperate. Overwhelmed by despair. All my effort was concentrated on stopping my breath. Every fiber of my mind and body was devoted to that singular goal. Yet, to my surprise, I breathed again, jolted by a powerful surge from the metal plate beneath my feet. 

I don’t know who is orchestrating all of this. I have only suspicions. But they control more than just my body. They even know my thoughts. And they refused to let me die quickly.

The ceiling window again revealed the sky, and light returned to my cell. I had no idea how long this reprieve would last. The pain in my stomach had subsided, leaving only a profound exhaustion. Above me, the sky was darkening, a sign that evening was approaching. Evening meant the possibility of sleeping, of being allowed to lie down again on that worn mattress. 

And then, a sliding door opened before me, revealing a massive room with a small, quadratic pool at its center. Blocks of ice floated ominously on the water’s surface. Suddenly, I felt two metal bars extend from the wall behind me. My wrists were locked to the bar, rendering me immobile. Beneath my feet, a metallic conveyor belt began moving me toward the freezing water.

Before I could comprehend what was happening, the mechanism submerged me into the icy depths, my body restrained by the metal bar. Everything happened so fast that I had no time to react—not that I could. My mind was the only part of me free to resist; my body was entirely controlled, held captive by the system. The water rose to my throat, and I struggled to process anything beyond the excruciating cold. My memories of the ordeal are blurred—just flashes of pain and, eventually, the sensation of warm air as the conveyor belt carried me back to the cell.

The pain was beyond anything I had ever experienced, consuming my entire body with unbearable intensity. Once I returned, I found myself still in a standing position, my legs trembling. In the cell, a mattress awaited me. The restraints abruptly released, and the metal bars retracted into the wall as the sliding door closed. I collapsed onto the mattress, too weak to move, the agony still fresh in my mind.

The following morning, I awoke precisely as I had before—lying flat on my back, with my wrists and ankles securely bound. Waiting for my ordeal to begin, I lifted my head and tried to catch a glimpse of my wrists. The restraints were straightforward: three-inch brown bracelets, possibly leather, unanchored to anything visible. Yet, when I attempted to move my hands, it was impossible. It felt like the bracelets still held me in place, somehow anchored. Could it be? Yes, a magnetic field. That had to be the answer. I was bound to a surface, its magnetic pull so powerful that it held me captive, rendering me utterly motionless.

And then it all began again, just like the day before. I remained cautious, wondering what new horrors might await. But there was nothing beyond the usual routine—shaking, heat, cold, and brief moments of stillness. No arms raised, no loss of consciousness. I felt hollow, stripped bare of clothing, willpower, and hope, bracing myself for the immeasurable pain I knew was inevitable.

I could track the passage of time by watching the sky, its shifting colors marking midday and the slow approach of evening. But I couldn’t call this peaceful. Every moment was steeped in dread, waiting for something harsher, something crueler, to shatter the routine. This constant anticipation wore me down, leaving me exhausted. Then, the cramping pain in my stomach returned, searing and relentless. It was so overwhelming that I thought I would vomit, but eventually, mercifully, it subsided into silence.

I screamed until my voice gave out, raw and broken. Desperation consumed me as I begged, over and over, for the torment to stop. “Just kill me,” I cried into the void, “end this agony. Please, let it be quick.” I knew there was no escape. Death was certain. This was the end.

 As the sliding door opened, I trembled uncontrollably, overcome by a powerful wave of nausea. I was controlled by a lack of empathy, an unthinking mechanism, utterly indifferent to my expression of fear. A bone-chilling cold engulfed me; I was submerged in ice before I knew it. Moments later, everything faded, and I lost consciousness.

When I regained consciousness, a gentle warmth greeted me, the air softly drying my skin, my arms were raised and restrained, and I felt myself being dragged into a cell. Once inside, I was released from the metallic bars and collapsed.  Exhaustion took hold; I fell into a deep sleep.

And then came days upon days of the same treatment. At one point, I no longer felt the cramps in my stomach. The day always ended with the inevitable and dreaded plunge into an icy bath—a chilling finale that could not be avoided. It took everything in me not to collapse. I was so afraid that, at times, I would faint before even being immersed in the water. There were days when I was forced to hold my hands up in the Vitruvian position for hours. Moments in the darkness grew more intense, amplifying my fear of the ordeal. Despite everything, I managed to stay focused and maintain clarity. My fear of death began to fade, replaced by a single focus: making everything bearable. The pain coursing through my body was excruciating, leaving me utterly drained. By the end of the day, exhaustion overtook me, and I collapsed onto the mattress on the floor. Almost instantly, I slipped into a deep, unbroken sleep. I tried to keep track of the days I was there, maintaining a mental record, but confusion set in, and I lost count.