Absolute blackness

Absolute blackness in the soul and in the dampness of the room. From the crying and the humidity. The plaster peels slowly, like her skin from the pills. She drinks a little water to wash away the salt of her bitterness from the mouth of her soul.

Her feet are filled with wounds from uncut nails and from the swollen flesh that receives them like a knife into its sinews. Her hair is tangled in clumps from sweat and pitch; the water forgot to clean it, finally...

It is not simply a lack of light and clarity. A depth exists that swallows thought, breath, and every human emotion.

A sharp breath is heard. It repeats more loudly. Once more, as if tearing the throat and the chest. Again. Again

And then... a trembling whisper like a ghost seeking a match. Like a thought trying to take on flesh and bone. But it flounders in the swamp and drowns.

"Do you remember? Do you remember? ”

Her face emerges from the half-light. Not absolutely clear. As if the vision of the mirror opposite remembers it and sketches it with a hard pencil. No, you don't see it, you rather feel it like a black aura.

The eyes blink slowly. She doesn't know who she is. She doesn't know why she hurts to the very depths of her soul...

But something inside her... recognizes the pain. Her skin. Her skin opens pores that drip sweat, and her muscles spasm. It is not a face, it is a mask.

Do you feel her reality? Tell me the truth.

It sounds like a male voice, but it is female... She doesn't seem to care particularly. She is used to the distortion. She isn't surprised. She rather smiles self-sufficiently at her plight...

“Don't be afraid... it is not the first time you are reborn from your ashes.”

Silence.

Eyes fill with tears, and without knowing why, she pulls at her cheeks to feel if she is alive.