8,923,200 Minutes

The footsteps were moving away. My face unclenched ever so slightly. The walls were  damp and the moss felt gold against my back. My ear was pressed against the crack. My legs just barely folded tight enough behind the stone I had somehow rolled in front. The ground covered with a mixture of moss, dirt, and soot. The small fracture in the ceiling, big enough for only maybe a roll of tape to fit in. The ridges on the back wall. 

Every inch of this place would stay ingrained in the back of my mind for the rest of my life. At this point, that might not be for much longer. At least I don’t have to ever get tested for claustrophobia now. That’s a plus, I guess. 

The sound was getting fainter now. Maybe a couple steps past the rock. Maybe a few more minutes for me to stay alive. Safety feels much less safe when you know it’s temporary. The noise outside felt like a hum now. Coming by every few minutes, every few minutes holding my breath, every few minutes dropping me over the edge of a cliff and forcing me to hang. 

17 years spent successfully avoiding them and this is what it gets me. 6205 days spent burrowing into cracks in the walls, hanging from the vines, climbing to the top of the ridge. 8,923,200 spent hiding for my life, never allowing myself to stay in one corridor for more than 10 minutes in fear that they would find me. 

I’ve been here for almost 3 hours now. I’ve heard more patrol my hiding place than I could count. They know I’m here. They always know. They know I’m sitting behind this rock. They know that at some point, I will come out. Either that or I will die inside, they couldn’t really care less as long as this situation ends in my certain death. 

This is an embarrassing position to die in. Curled up in a ball. Do I really wanna get torn apart? Or do I die in a fetal position? Not seeming like great options right now, not gonna lie. 

Slowly, I start to wake up my feet. Rolling my ankles in circles the way I do before I run up the vines. I slowly work my arms up onto the boulder. I push. Even in the night, the light still blinds me. But only for a second.