Although, jerald couldn’t see, something told him that he definitely wasn’t alone in the cellar. It was dark, too dark and big. The ground underneath him was made of rock and he heard it. He stayed completely still and silent in his corner straining his ears.

He heard the scratches and rocks tumbling as the creature moved towards him. He was cold, wet, and terrified. His muscles were aching and eyes were drooping. He didn’t know how he got in this deep, dark room. The only certainty was that he was going to die to whatever made that noise.

He extended his arm out to see if it was there. He touched something and he withdrew his hand. Nothing happened. He put his arm back and touched a cold, rough, flat wall. He touched another wall to his left and something metal to his right; the door. He realized that he had not heard a physical creature, he had heard his inner voices.

They lurked in his mind whispering things and making noises. They tried to make him give up, to die, but he didn’t know what to do. He would have to make a choice. He had to live and be tortured to death by his capturers or kill himself in this pit with his thoughts.

He chose the latter.