The Loudest Shout Ever

Call it a weakness or strength, physical tasks with requirement of continuous hard labor wasn't my forte that I severely lagged behind others with similar physique. But I could do something in a burst of energy outperforming even bigger men's similar effort for a short time, the nerves allowed me at least that as a form of compensation. Then of course I would be struggling for breath.

My stomach growled suddenly and I felt painfully hungry as if I hadn't eaten for days.

A sense of weakness washed over my body, and my mind started to slack. Shaking my head out of it and repressing the hunger, I ended the little break. If it was hunger, then it was more of reason to make escape faster.

'This is not working. Strength is of no use here... I must find another way.'

I started to check again slowly and even more attentively, each and every corner to find anything different, uncommon. But my hope started to dwindle as thoughts started to sink in that I was really trapped in here and nothing helpful could be accomplished from the inside. I needed help.

Beside my parents buying things for me, I had never relied on anybody else to get something done even in dire times. I had trusted on my own wits and muscles or even jumped to face the tough luck unwilling to ask for assistance not granted.

Now that I knew it wasn't just failure but a death looming over my head, I felt insecure.

Yes insecurities…I overcame whatever I could. Then if they could not be destroyed or overcome, I put up a wall masking them subconsciously. To fool even myself, one helluva good actor I was. With proud and over-confident bearing, I carried myself, ignorant of weakness that lay dormant.

I learnt and accepted this pretending trait of mine quite early on when an event broke my shell open letting me take a good look at myself. Impulsively I once messed with a hoodlum only to be frozen at a decisive moment because taking next course of action could mean starting something, and backing out meant embarrassment. Guess what I chose. Since then self-doubt has never left me, barring any impulsive actions for better or worse and restraining unfounded confidence.

Now that this insecurity couldn't be treated either way, it was intensifying every moment clawing at my soul.

"Hello! Hellloooo!!!" I called but hid any semblance of panic from my voice. If someone really heard me, I will gracefully express how annoying it would be to get out of this box on my own. Then I will promise to repay them somehow for saving my time and effort.

"HEY!! HELLOOO!!! IS THERE ANYBODY!?" I raised my volume because I felt the need. Maybe because the box was so closed that the voice was muffled. But no one answered.

The effort put in voice also led palms to shape into claws, rubbing against the floor. And the warm exhale of air returned caressing the face.

"I SAID, "IS THERE ANYONE!?" GET ME OUT OF HEAR!! DON'T TEST ME!!" I assumed with suspicion that if someone was really outside but they were ignoring me, then they must have hand in my present state, a logical conclusion. I started to call them with threatening tone. I thereby kept increasing the volume to express my seriousness.

But my voice was the only sound within the chamber of isolation.

So I started threatening them how I imagined I would if someday someone managed to break the final limit of my tolerance. Because now it was broken, thoroughly.

"Once I get out of here, I will find you. I will make you pay. Who do you think I am? You have messed with the wrong person. I will kill you. I will beat you to death!!!!" *Bang*

"Open this box, shithead. I told you to open this box!!!! Open it Now!!!" *Bang* *Bang* I had started putting curses and threats unaware of the hideous expression my face had contorted into as I imagined someone laughing at my struggle from the other side. My rage was peaking.

Unintentionally I had also started banging the wooden walls after every sentence I shouted. To express my anger I reasoned, to vent it my body should have.

"No matter which fucker tries to stop me, I will peel off your skin, skewer your fucking eyes, cut your limbs bloody piece by piece while you scream your throats out. Then I will scrap the flesh off your bones…."

The curses and threats became more and more vicious and menacing reaching extraordinary levels like a floodgate had broken releasing all the suppressed anger and evil thoughts from the past years where I tolerated and held back for the sake of maintaining a perfect image.

But nothing changed even after three minutes of my continuous toxicity erupting session which tired me. Even the person in my memory with the toughest skin might have huddled into a ball and cried if they had to suffer this much of my verbal assault, I imagined as I became aware of my cursing capability for the first time. It was just cursing anyway while letting the dark urges run wild and shape my imagination. In reality I couldn't even kill a fish properly, I recalled another shameful past.

'Is there really no one?' When that thought crossed my mind I felt weak all of a sudden, as if something died in me…..hope? I felt like my heart caving in.

'Another dead end!?' I had stopped shouting anyway.

'No! It cannot be!' Immediately denying that I was just trapped alone somewhere isolated was an attempt at saving my mind from breakdown.

Maybe I really needed to ask for 'help'…express how helpless I was on my own….a true cry for help. Maybe I needed to drop any charade that I could still help myself or that I needed justice granted to me for being wrongly put here. 'Fine!!!!'

"Help! HELP!! HELLLPPPPP!!" I started to cry for help….pure, unmasked help. "It doesn't matter whoever you are, just help me get out. I will not blame you, I will not think to punish you. Even if you did this to me I forgive you!! Maybe I deserve this somehow. Just GET ME OUTTA HERE!!"

I wasn't surprised when my voice barely got to the half the level of volume when I threatened just before. I could scream louder when I was yelling at someone than I could when asking for help. My throat was so unaccustomed that it was quickly turning sore.

Then again, until I had reached my peak volume I believed I hadn't hit a wall in this path. I knew I was capable of the loudest shout ever, but how?

It's true when one says, 'While personality gives the impetus, memories shape a person's behavior'. Many actions I took were connected to one or more memory which I would recall during the execution. My memory was just that badly good and frustratingly eager to ooze out at every chance.

The answer quickly came to me with the recollections where I did shout my loudest, with absolute belief of getting a response at that. These were some distant memories.