Since my thirteenth cycle, I have had the horrendous charge of delivering rations to the prisoners in the dark dungeon. Each day I cringed and cried as I passed out the food to the prisoners as they shared harsh looks, cruel gestures, and crude innuendos. I maneuvered quickly through the corridor of fifty-two cells housing at least three captives each and tried to block out my surroundings and think of anything else but the dark words they spoke. The only light that got me through this utter torture was the uplifting words of prisoner 5287. He treated me with kindness, courtesy, and words to uplift the weary.
“Don’t despair, child,” I heard softly as I came up to the door of his cell. My green eyes met with his light hazels that spoke of sadness and regret. He was slim and frail, but if he refused to despair in this dismal prison, then I must persist as well.
“Why are you crying, dear one?” he asked as he struggled to sit up on the dirt floor.
I reached up to touch my cheek, for I did not realize I had started to cry. I did not want to tell him I had failed.
“I…” I started to say as my voice shook terribly. I did not want to disappoint him.
I started again. “I tried…I got through for only a short time, but…I do not know if it worked. I haven’t been able to reach him again.”
He was silent for a while. I thought maybe he had fallen asleep whilst sitting up. “Then you must contact the second,” he whispered as he lay back down on the floor. He sounded old, tired, out of breath. “He…easier…to reach…” he wheezed out.
“You…must…continue….do not….give…up.” He said each word slowly like it was hard to speak.
As I sucked in a huge gasp of breath I didn’t realize I was holding and let the tears run down my face, I looked at his tired eyes with determination. “I will, I promise.”