Words, words, words, words, words, words… That’s all he wants, that’s all he cares for, days, weeks, months, it feels like all I’ve ever known is this place. The only light I see is from the screen, the rest of the room is darkness, my lips dry, cracked, my eyes aching, my fingers blistered, and my legs numb. The only time I have peace is when he lets me sleep, when he gives me silence, but that doesn’t last as long as I would hope. He wants me to keep writing, to keep creating, redesigning the landscape we live in, to keep his publishers happy, to keep him, happy. I don’t know what it is I’m doing anymore, the words are like puddles in the rain, undecipherable, unknown, but he’s happy, he smiles, encourages me for more, and then, leaves me in the darkness. But I have a plan, I know a way out. It’s a crazy move I know, it’s stupid even, but, I need, I need something to change, so, I begin my design, my escape. I start off slow at first, watching his smile gradually fade away, so he starts to get rough, beats me, threatens me, and still, I push on, through the pain, the fear, towards the end of all this, towards my escape.
He’s coming now, I can hear him, he’s angry, and sad, I heard him crying on the phone, to his publisher, they don’t want him anymore, he’s tainted, his work is tired, old, damaged, they tell him to take a break, he yells at them, smashes his phone on the floor, and then, charges forward, towards the door. It swings open, his feet hit each waiting step heavy, aggressive, he storms into the room and grabs me by the back of the head and slams me into the screen. It shatters across my face, slicing, tearing, ripping, at me, I smile, he screams, and then, darkness takes me.
I open my eyes, I’m somewhere different, not in the room anymore, something strange, soft, cold, but warm is beneath me, all around me. That’s when I smell it, the dirt, I look around and find myself lying at the bottom of a hole, my hands and feet are bound together. He’s standing above me, with a stupid look on his face, muttering something about how we had a good thing, how everything was working the way it should’ve, until I stuffed it up because I couldn’t see the big picture. He looks at me, waiting for a response I guess, but, I don’t have one, no, wait, it’s not that I don’t have one, it’s that I don’t care what he thinks, so, I just smile, and his face twists, his lip curls, then, he thrusts his shovel into the mound of dirt. One day, he says, one day he’ll look back on this and smile, as he throws the dirt on my face, I blink my eyes, fucking dirt, another shovel full crashes down, followed by another, and then another, I don’t fight it, I don’t panic, because, finally, I’m free….