Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound is consistent, luring me out of a deep, endless sleep: water droplets breaking against stone. Where am I?

Fighting against heavy eyelids, I open my eyes to darkness. Such complete darkness that for a moment I wonder if I actually managed to get my eyes open. Why am I in this darkness? Why is it that all I can remember is darkness? This hard darkness and the soft darkness within my mind. Somewhere deep within my instincts, I know that this darkness should be full of memories. And yet it is not.

Did I have memories there or have I yet to make them? Was I created in this darkness or was I unlucky enough to be trapped here?

I do not know the answer.

Either way, I must get up. I must stand and find a way out of the dark.

How do I do this? I try to focus on the rest of my body and less on my mind. I need to get up. I have to.

Turning my arm over, I lift my hand. Almost immediately, the back of my hand touches a cold and rough texture. Rock, no doubt. It is just an inch above my chest. A new emotion slams into me, so hard that for a moment I am left gasping. It is panic; complete and total panic that I cannot escape from. I am trapped here.

I am trapped and I cannot get out. I can't get up.

Suddenly, I cannot breathe. The rock is pressing on me. Pressing down on me so hard it hurts. My chest will not expand. Not to the sides and not upward. The rock has me constricted. I just woke up here and now I will die. Is this the life I was meant to live? Just a few measly minutes in the dark? I want memories. I want mine back if they were taken and I want the opportunity to make more.

I do not want to die.

A scream shatters the silence around me, echoing in the small space. The sound startles me, shocks me out of the stillness that had claimed me. Did I do that or is there someone else here with me? I snap my hand up, slamming my palm into the rock above me. My palm splits, the ragged edges of the stone tearing into my skin.

I will not die here.

I have to get out. I will get out, no matter the cost

Another scream sounds. This one I know is my own, for it is filled with defiance and anger. I can get out. I will do this. Striking the stone again, I wriggle my body to the side. Perhaps I can loosen the hold of the rock enough to escape--

The rock is not pressing on my chest.

The realization makes me stop and take a shuddering breath. I am not being crushed. Running my fingers over the rough surface, I find that the slab is still about an inch above my skin. The sensation of being constricted came not from the rock but from panic.

A soft laugh echoes through the chamber, originating from my own chest. Of course. This much rock does not just move by itself. What was I thinking?

Still chuckling at myself, I reach my right arm out to the side. Only about six inches in that direction I am met by another slab of rock. I try again with my left. On this side, I only have about four inches. Pointing my bare toes, I find the rock only half an inch away. My only option is to go toward my head.

What if I am met with another wall? I have to believe that I will not be.

I can work with this. I can do this.

Pressing my palm into the rock at my right, I push myself against the opposite wall. I need room to get my arm into position. Despite the extra inches I bought, the procedure is still painful and requires me to scrape the back of my hand against the abrasive texture of the rock. Stretching my hand above me, I find nothing but empty space.

Yes. Yes!

The rock above me continues on a parallel path, but I am not met by another wall. There is a possibility of escape. With this new knowledge, I quickly use the same process to free my left arm, before reaching yet again. I need to find purchase to pull myself along the ground. Placing both hands on the ceiling of rock, I find a small ledge in it. Placing both hands against this I wriggle my body, pulling with my arms, and manage to slither up a little way.

Again, I reach above me and find empty space. Repeating this process of reach, find purchase, pull, and reach again, I pull myself a very decent distance. It is only when I pause to rest, my breath rasping in my throat, do I realize that the slab above me is slowly becoming less and less parallel. My space is now constricting. The farther I go, the less space I have.

But there is still no end wall. This is my only chance of escape. I will not stop.

Three more times I pull myself forward. By now, the rock is catching on the scraps of fabric around my chest and I have to turn my head to avoid scraping my nose raw. My shoulders are aching and raw from the uneven surface of the ground. I need to rest. But I cannot.

The air around me is hot and getting hotter with every breath. If I do not get out soon, I will suffocate.

I reach up again, my injured palm stinging as I grasp in the darkness for a hand-hold. Almost fully extended, my fingers brush up against solid rock.

No.

I curl my other hand into the rock and haul myself forward. No... don't let this be the end... there must be a way out of here.

Taking a deep, gasping breath, I reach out again. I cannot be trapped here. There has to be a way out. I lay my hand against the rock in my path. Perhaps the path goes to the side now? It has been straight for a long time. Letting my fingers slide against the rock, I feel along it. There has to be another passage.

I do not want to die down here.

The rock seems to bend and I have to pull myself up farther to follow it. The passage is narrow, much more now then it was. It is tight against my sides. There must be a way out. For the last time, I reach out. Shaking, the tips of my fingers come into contact with more solid rock.

No. Nonono.

Desperate, I slide my hand around the wall. It is solid. There is no other escape. This is the end. A dead end.

No! Nononononono! No! no!

Panic sweeps down, constricting my chest to the point of pain once again. I can't breathe through it. I am trapped here. I am going to die. There is no way out... there is no way out.

I am trapped.