Stars of Solace (ep. 2)

Hello again. This is Axel, writing to you from a notebook that I hope no one will discover yet. Actually, this counts more as my first time writing here since I sent my previous letter through the wind like a paper plane; looking back, it was foolish and desperate. It hasn't been a day since I last wrote something, so I will try to keep this a daily effort, at least until I get out.

- August 5th, 2012 - (Dusk of the first day)

I remember it so vividly, even the taste of fresh fruit and yogurt still lingered on my tongue. We were having fun, laughing at my stupid jokes. I gazed at her with the most dumbfound face I could muster, for I was lovestruck with every passing moment that I could listen to her voice. Even when she blinked, it felt like slow motion as I savored every detail of her face, engraving that smile deep within my unfrozen heart. It was a moment I wanted to last forever; that is until I woke up.

As I opened my eyes, I felt as if my vision had failed me. I could not register a coherent thought in my mind for a moment until I realized that I saw just fine. It was already dark outside, and the room filtered little to no light at all. I faced a white wall just inches away from my face, and my body was covered in a white blanket. The room was dimly lit from a window on the ceiling. Quickly after, I remembered what had transpired the day before, and my thoughts raced with trembling emotions that tried to gain dominance over my mental health.

I would yell as I turned to find that a man, dressed in white, was sitting next to the bed I laid on, just watching me. He was not startled by my reaction, almost as if he was expecting it. Our eyes locked into each other, and still, he did not move from where he sat. I was out of breath, unable to find the words needed to muster a coherent sentence to even ask about our location, and just before I did, he spoke. He looked at me as if I was insane and attempted to calm me down from my erratic behavior. Honestly, most of his words just flew over my head because I was plotting an escape route right that very second.

The moment I tried to get on my feet, the man stopped me. I looked at him defiantly and placed my feet on the floor. He sprung from his chair, and stomped on my foot, hit me in the stomach, and pushed me against the bed. Usually, I would've hoped that the yells of pain would be enough to call for someone's attention to help, but my hopes quickly faded. As I fell back onto the bed, he pointed at me and reprimanded me with a smirk on his face. I was fed up, feeling ready to jump at him and attack, but he was twice my size; I am a tall guy, but when it comes to muscle mass, I was beaten. My emotions had taken over, I acted on instinct as I threw myself at the man that quickly took me by the throat and slammed me onto the cold floor. There, he began kicking me while I was down and punched me in the face as I tried to flaunt my way back up. It is safe to say that it is a miracle that I didn't lose any teeth from all of these beatings. I fell back down only to face up to that window on the ceiling. Thick, gray clouds flew over me, releasing small droplets of rain that gently pounded on that glass surface.

- August 6th, 2012 - (Dawn of the second day)

I must have blacked out because I woke up once more on that same bed, but this time, that man was nowhere to be found. I know because I would've been able to see him despite there being little to no light at all in the infirmary. Maybe I was knocked back into my senses because I acted more rationally this time.

I made sure that the man was not hiding so that I could freely move. I was alone. Every time I looked up to the window, I could imagine myself climbing up. I'd be lying if I said I didn't try, and I almost made it despite my aching foot; I wasn't sure if that guy just splintered or fractured it, but I was still not letting my physical pain get in my way. Of course, it was to no avail. It did not matter that I had stacked the chair on top of the bed, it was still welded shut and what seemed to be a triple-sheet of glass. Alright, maybe I wasn't as sensical back then as I am now, but I had to explore all my options, no matter how dumb they may seem upon looking back. I tried to remain as calm as I could, so I put everything back in its place and took a deep breath. After that, I noticed that I hadn't even realized what time it was yet. Of course, there was no clock to be found, nothing to tell the time except for an old desktop computer that sat on the desk where I found out that I was stripped from my human rights. I know what you're thinking, and trust me, I did think of using that computer to attempt to get a message out through social media, but it was locked. I did not want to trigger an alarm, so I steered clear after trying my luck with the password twice. At least the monitor displayed the time, it would be sun-up soon.

I tried opening the three doors that confined me to those four, white walls. As I expected but not hoped for, they were locked from the outside. I sighed slowly and leaned against the wall. Relaxing a bit made me snap out of my survival instinct and back into reality, and that was that I was badly bruised. My skin stung and burned around every spot that darkened my flesh. My foot ached with tremendous pain, for the I knew it was truly fractured. Roaming about, hurt. Everything I did had become into an unpleasant sensation of physical defeat.

That is when I heard it, the sound of music faintly coming from the other side of the wall. I stuck my ear against the cold, dry wall to listen closer. It was piano, as someone played Moonlight Sonata. It amuses me how a piece of music so old can overcome you with feelings that needed to be felt. I embraced that sadness that lingered deep within, hidden beneath my anger and confusion. It was at that moment that I decided to let go for one day, to wait for the doors to unlock and hoping that someone will explain what is going on. All I had in my mind were pieces of a puzzle that scrambled the answers I was so desperately seeking. That is when I found this notebook just tucked underneath one of the beds in this place; it even has a well-worn pencil.

I realize that my pouting and anger showed my mother that I could be violent. Cleaning the knife and putting it away could have been seen as suspicious within the wrong context. But things didn't add up; am I in here for belief of attempting murder? But most of all, I am trying to figure out where I really am, because I know for a fact that this isn't a rehab facility. But then, what is it? Why am I really here?

The sun is coming up, and I'm sure someone will notice me writing. I promise to be sensical and think things through by the next time I write again. I shall not forget, and people will know what is happening here.

My dear Alice, I wish you knew that I am alright. So do not worry over me, for I will be seeing you again soon.