7248

I was dragged by two familiar and tired instruments of Service, through seemingly endless junctions and corridors. Immensely complicated routes, through planes and scenes remotely different yet altogether similar. Immensely complicated routes; after a bit it seemed more like as if we were falling, rather than moving horizontally. Then in the end, we stood before a door, it was inscribed rather ridiculously

"Court Number Seven Thousand Two Hundred Fourty Eight".

Around me, all along the corridors, each door bore an inscription.

Remotely similar but altogether different.

And by that, I mean more than just the numbers.

I knocked. Someone knocked back. We entered.

Inside there was a mirror and facing it a chair.

Between them,

on the floor,

a mass of broken glass.

I sat upon the chair as instructed.

I don't really remember by who, although

I do remember

it made little difference.

They placed some kind of headphones in my ears.

Then, they told me to really open my eyes.

I saw the mirror. My head flooded with voices

immensely different

and unique.

Yet altogether singular.

I screamed in a futile attempt to cover them.

But the more I screamed, the more the voices were becoming.

As if each scream was an addition.

I fell upon my knees, and hit the broken glass.

Then, they told me to really wake up.

The voices vanished. The pain flashed dead.

Only plain,

clear words

remained inside my ears.

"We hereby sentence you to serve the penalty of self destruction, as all the jury members have unanimously decided. You have the right to plead yourself not guilty; if so, the charges shall be lifted of you, so as to set you free once more. If you however do acknowledge your punishment as just, we can relieve you of your painful duty to confess. We know, perhaps as well as you yourself, that it will hurt your pride and its subterfuge, confusion, to plead yourself guilty. If we are right, coward, you may remain silent after I finish talking. And if you do, then we will punish you as desired."

What could I say?

I was dragged through one sole door into an almost vacant cell.

Upon the wall facing the door, was one large painting.

It showed a cause for which to suffer.

Besides the painting was a plate,

like those one can find

in art galleries.

It named a reason to suffer for the cause.

On the floor, was a catalogue of instruments of torture.

It would provide me with the means

to suffer for a reason and a cause.

Upon the door was an inscription. It read "You need only to flee, and we will strip you of your crimes."

I gave myself pain. After a while, the wounds grew numb to torment. And this enlarged the shame I felt.

So I had to hurt deeper.

After long hours spent in punishment,

I thought

that I was really free to leave.

Each time my palm would touch the key, I would return.

Always for one hit more. Just one hit more, just to be sure.

I'm here now. Inside the room. I'm pretty certain I'm alone, they were as sure as I that this would work.

And when I get to think that I have bled enough to slip outside the keyhole, another reason calls me back.

Immensely different yet altogether just the same.

I'm here now. I scream pretending I can suffer still.

Each time that I fake it, I feel the need to suffer harder.

Up until now, each scream of need, was an addition.

And every time I see the writing on the door,

I feel the need to make my leaving worth it.

Don't let it be just a retreat.

Up until now, each dream of flight, was an audition.