The Darkness Within
Solitary confinement wasn't just a cell.
It was a grave.
Jasper had been in fights. Had felt pain, hunger, exhaustion.
But this?
This was different.
The room was small, suffocating. No windows. No clock. Just concrete walls and a steel door that never opened.
The only sound was his own breathing.
And his thoughts?
They were getting louder.
At first, Jasper tried to count the minutes.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three…
But eventually, the numbers blurred.
Had it been hours? A day? More?
The only sign of time passing was the slot in the door sliding open—just long enough for a tray of food to be shoved inside.
No words. No faces.
Just silence.
And silence?
Was worse than pain.
Jasper lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling. His body ached. His mind… fractured.
What if I never get out?
What if this is the Warden's plan? Let me rot until I break?
A laugh echoed in his head.
Pante's laugh.
"You really thought you could rule this place?"
Jasper shut his eyes. "Shut up."
Another voice.
His own.
"What if you're not strong enough?"
He sat up. Shaking.
"Get out of my head," he muttered.
But there was no one here but him.
No Mark. No Raul. No Briggs.
Just him and the dark.
Jasper didn't know how long it had been when the first panic attack hit.
His chest tightened. His breath came fast, sharp, ragged.
His hands shook.
The walls felt closer.
The darkness heavier.
No air. No escape.
He slammed his fist against the floor. "No. Not like this."
But his mind whispered.
What if this is how it ends?
Then—a sound.
The slot in the door slid open.
Not for food.
A small note fell through.
Jasper stared at it. Blinking.
His hands trembled as he reached for it.
Four words.
"You're not alone. M."
Mark.
Jasper exhaled. His heart still pounded, but his grip on reality steadied.
This wasn't over.
He wasn't broken yet.