I laid in my usual quiet spot, I guess some would call it my favorite corner. It was bleak, painful, and dark. Honestly, I did not know why I had originally chosen this corner above the other three, but yet it was where they saw me without fail every time they came. I barely twitched as I laid there in fetal position, doing everything I could to conserve energy as they slowly starved me. They had hoped to break my sanity, yet I remained as resilient and stubborn as the wretched day they had brought me in here. Admittedly, I was considerably weaker than what I had been during the days of my glory. My stomach growled, reminding me of my weakness and hunger.

The sound of creaking steel split my eardrums. I flipped around to find that someone had left a small bowl filled with something that cannot be described as other than muck. My former self would have rejected such a disgusting meal, if you could call it a meal, but nowadays I find myself enjoying these occasional meals. It felt like they fed me perhaps twice a week, but there was no way to tell since I had been holed up in here for so long. I had even forgotten what daylight felt like, the glare of the bright light bouncing off of the beautiful lake of Crescent, the warmth that only a mother could provide.

I sighed and slowly rose from my corner and crawled to the grilled chain-link wall, at the gate where my small bowl of food sat. Scooping the muck out with my fingers, I struggled to scarf down as much as I could as it dripped back into the plate through my fingers. My hands were covered in grime, in fact, my whole body was grimy. The lack of hygiene was just one other foreign concept to me. It was a wonder that disease had not taken hold of me, but then again I had always been abnormally strong. I retreated back into my corner of solitude after finishing my mucky food, certain that it tasted disgusting but dulled to the taste after so many years.

I sighed a second time in my favorite corner, where I spent what seemed an eternity in my thoughts, wondering where I had gone wrong. I honestly thought I had done everything right, yet here I was trapped. My cage, a cage I woke to everyday, a constant reminder of my mistake. My mistake, where did I first go wrong? I wish someone would tell me where I went wrong. Perhaps it was my hope. I regret ever having hoped.

The feeling of the thin, chain-link floor digging in my skin was dulled too, my skin had probably taken the shape of the ground after so many years. But I still just laid on my side, the same posture with my face pointed to the wall. This was the only way I was able to ignore my reminder, the cage of mistaken hope.

Why did I cling to life? I think it was because of hope I lived on, forever to be damned by my hope which brought about nothing but misery. Why do I hope? What good could there possibly be left for me to live? I knew how to end my life. After all, life was fragile. Perhaps I held on to hope for the sake that someone had to do so, that my time was not to come, at least yet. I felt it, the feeling of purpose, the need to bring about one last gift before I go. Of course, it could all just be a foolish dream from an even bigger fool, but at least it was not a childish dream. Maybe I should let go after all, since there was no evidence of change. The only change that seemed possible was the end, and maybe I should bring about my end.

However, I remained as foolish and stubborn as I always had been. Admittedly, I did feel disheartened by the chorus the background offered, the outcries of groaning and agonizing wails of other members who shared my grim fate. Then again, maybe their fate was less painful than mines, but that did not satisfy me in the least bit.

I had never met anyone else in this dark hole except for those who seldom fed me. There was that one fella who was here that I shared conversations with, but I think that was years ago. I had no way to tell, since there was no time in this dreadful pit. Even the lighting was dim, glowing with the same radiance it had for what I assumed were years.

My greatest fear was that my legacy would end in failure, utter failure. Not that I had cared much about the impression I would leave on the world, but I certainly did not want to be branded as a failure. I guess it brought some comfort to me that I was known to only a few, so that my failure was recognized by those few only if they still lived.

There were many things I would have had wanted to do before all of this had happened, like to have slept in a bed one last time or maybe spend an entire evening eating nothing but grills. An odd regret maybe, but I now knew what had happened was going to occur sooner or later. That is why I vowed that the first thing I would eat if I ever get out of here was going to be the grills, but that was if I ever got to leave this accursed place. I had little hope left at this point, yet a little was all I needed to live on and perhaps redeem myself. To present that final gift, or at least a better purpose than rotting away in this state of despair.

I vowed my curse to the traitors, but my vengeance would be carried out by my avenger. My vengeance would be done with justice. My vengeance would be absolute. At least I hoped so, since it seemed that not even a marsh flea would care about my skin and bones. All I could do was sigh and hope on, groan my frustration and remain stubborn. Some may say my stubbornness was childish, but I found it mildly entertaining since it frustrated my enemies. The only bit of retaliation I could present.

What would I give to have a conversation with someone? I guess that was another thing I wished I had done on my last day. Grills and chatter. Instead, here I am fretting over what I could have and could not have done, stuck in my endless stubborn line of thought.

I was fully aware that my escape would ruffle up some feathers, so I had made a mental note to finish my business swiftly and effectively before I ran out of time. I would leave one final prick with my downfall.

The metal doors reverberated somewhere in the distance, then the scuffling and struggling grunts of an individual. I barely twitched, but my intrigue was piqued over this change. For too long they had left me abandoned in this cell all alone, but suddenly my captors gave their new captive a cell right beside mine’s, and as sudden this commotion began they had just as quickly left us alone. There was sobbing as soon as they shut the door behind them. Curious, I thought to myself. Their captive was a boy, a highly unusual circumstance to say the least.

I flipped around and my eyes confirmed that he was just a mere boy. A boy who somehow earned a cell right beside me. I twisted my head around back at the entrance, eyeing it suspiciously. Momentarily I wondered if this was another ploy from the Mountain, which I had assumed that they had given up doing a long time ago.

No, this boy was sincere, I could sense his broken spirit. In a way, I saw myself in him, brokenhearted all those years ago. He curled away in the corner just I had done before, balled up in his legs toning out his surroundings. Certainty gripped me that I had never met him before, but there was some sort of familiarity about him. Suddenly it dawned on me.

“Shavo?” I uttered in disbelief. The first words I spoke in ages were trembling in shock, I even doubted my own eyes.

The boy paused from his crying, staring back at me in the same disbelief. Seeing his eyes removed any doubt, this indeed was Shavo.