Into the Black



Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I wish it were true. When you’re surrounded by an infinite void and what should be certain death, the last thing you want to hear is a blood-curdling scream. Yet, here I am floating through space when I hear that sound that I will never forget.

‘Please! No! Please!’ the voice shouts.

‘Wake up, Diana’ a soft voice says ‘Wake up, wake up’ It’s louder now and I can’t ignore it any longer.

I wake up in a pool of my sweat and maybe some tears too. The funny thing about dreams is that they feel so real. Only when you wake up do you realise how farfetched and fantastical floating through space is. Except, this nightmare is something I’ve lived before. I’ve lived it every night for the past three weeks, until I wake. I’ve also lived it when I was in outer space too. The problem is, one minute I’m with my crew uncovering one of the greatest discoveries man has ever come across. The next thing I know, I’m waking up on a beach - a severed thumb in hand, uniform covered in blood, and a group of people surrounding me as if I were the newest attraction in town. I wish I could remember what happened in between space and the beach, but I don’t. Well, at least I don’t think I remember. Some events flash back, like the floating, but it feels like a dream. Separating dreams from reality has become a task that I’m not up to just yet.

‘Diana, wake up’ A voice on the other side of the door says.

‘I am. Sorry I didn’t realise the time’ I reply.

The room they’ve confined me to is small. I get a toilet, basin, bed and a clock. I guess I can’t complain when I’m being accused of killing fourteen crewmates, but a little colour wouldn’t hurt.

‘We’re on the move in 3 minutes’ the voice says sternly.

‘Okay’ I sigh.

It’s my fault, I should’ve woken up the first time they came around, but I wanted to avoid reality for as long as possible. I have no time to use the toilet, but I splash my face with some cold water (maybe it’ll shock me into remembering something), and twist my hair up into a messy bun. I keep my sweats and slippers on and wait until my door opens. Bernie is kind to me, but I think he’s had enough of seeing my face every morning.

‘You know if you tell ‘em what happened you could go home’ Bernie tells me, very matter-of-factly

‘I wish I had more to tell Bernie, I really do’ I say, almost pleading for Bernie to believe me.

Bernie looks at me like I’m a poor, helpless puppy. I think he feels sorry for me. Not because he thinks I’m telling the truth, but because I actually believe that I’m innocent.

I follow Bernie down the long hallway. It feels like dejavu, except it’s not. I really have done this walk more times than I can count. When we get to Door 16, I take a deep breath and wait for Dr. Roe to answer Bernie’s soft rap on the door. I exhale when I see Dr. Roe’s warm smile. It seems to be the only thing that I’ve found comfort in these last few weeks.

‘Come in, Diana’ Dr. Roe says as she ushers me inside her office. It’s a beautiful room, but it doesn’t fit in with the rest of the facility. The walls are floor to ceiling mahogany bookshelves. I always wonder how long it would take to fill so many shelves, but Dr. Roe seems like an avid reader, so I can’t imagine it took long at all. There are five different seats to choose from, which seems excessive. I choose the big, grey armchair mainly because it looks the most comfortable, but it also gets the most sun. I never realised how much I love the sun on my skin until being stuck here.

‘You know, I’m convinced you have different chairs as a way to psychoanalyse a person before they even open their mouth’. I’ve been thinking this for a while, but it’s the first time I’ve said it because today feels like we need an icebreaker.

‘That’s an interesting observation. Why do you think you picked your chair?’ Dr. Roe asks me, as if to confirm my theory.

‘I don’t know’ I lie. I don’t know why I lied to her. The reason isn’t incriminating or embarrassing, but it doesn’t feel like something that she needs to know.

‘Fair enough’ she shrugs. She goes on to explain that the chairs are merely there to fill the room and that some people prefer to lay down, while others like to put their feet up. I don’t believe her, but it’s nice of her to try to make me feel comfortable.

‘Shall we begin?’ She asks

‘We can try, I suppose’ I offer. A crumb of hope maybe? Dr Roe’s eyes flicker with some optimism, but quickly revert to her usual, solemn look. It’s the first time I’ve opened without a ‘I don’t remember anything’, so it’s possible that for a split second she believes that I will try.

‘Have you been having your dream?’ She asks

‘Like clockwork’ is my usual reply, and today there’s no difference. I’ve been seeing Dr. Roe every day in hopes of remembering what happened. Nothing but space – black – beach comes to me, no matter how hard I try to tap into my memories.

‘Here’s the thing, Diana. I do believe you. I believe you don’t know what happened consciously. But, subconsciously you know what happened on that ship and I need you to let me help you. If you don’t, I don’t know where you end up. The severed thumb in your hand and the bloody mess on your suit indicates you either did something or saw something. Maybe you were bringing the finger back as evidence that something happened? Maybe you were covered in blood trying to save someone. But 15 people went out on a ship and only one returned. We all need to understand what happened Diana. We need –‘

‘I know! Don’t you think I know this? I wish I knew, Cristine’. I’ve never called Dr. Roe by her first name, but it felt like the only way to get my point across to her. She asks me to take some deep breaths and slowly recall exactly what I remember following up to me washing up on the beach. I remember having a discussion with Scott. I don’t know exactly what it was about but he was frustrated. I don’t know why he was frustrated but I remember begging him to take me seriously. The next thing I remember is blackness surrounding me and that blood curdling pleading for mercy. Last, but definitely not least, I remember waking up on the beach, a woman crying out ‘she’s alive! She’s covered in blood, but she’s alive!’.

‘I’m sorry, but that’s all I can remember’ I sigh

‘It’s okay, Diana. Thank you for trying’ Dr Roe offers.

I take a sip of water and look around the room. I’ve never really noticed just how beautiful it is in here. It feels like it should be in a home on the East Side, not in a facility in the middle of nowhere. Dr Roe writes her notes which I’m sure just say ‘again, she lies to my face’. I keep looking around the room, pondering how someone could have so many different interests based on their book choices. A book on the far shelf catches my eye. I’ve never noticed it before but the sun catches its gold bound cover and I’m drawn to it straight away. I don’t know what it is about that cover but it triggers something and the memory hits me hard and fast, like a tonne of bricks.

‘Okay Cristine.’ I swallow, but my dry throat offers no reprieve.

‘I’m ready to talk.’