Page 45 of His in the Dark

Watching the empty hall is one thing. Taking a step out?

I don’t know if it is a sick game or not. If there will be a punishment. Hades does not provide me with instruction. For a God of control, he does not attempt to control me apart from keeping me here. It is maddening.

Days have passed. Nights. I have eaten, and along with the nourishment, a certain clarity has returned to my mind. I can feel my body growing satisfied with its own energy again. The horrible, starved cravings have stopped, though I remain hungry for everything else.

My mother always told me the world is what we make it, what we believe is true is what will be. As within, so without. And so I stare at the door, convincing myself that it is my freedom, that is the right path for me to take. And yet, that truth does not hold true in my gut.

I do not trust this open door.

Even in the daylight, the sight is as forbidding as a dark shadow. I do not trust that it will remain light in the hallway, and I do not trust that the door is open as an invitation.

It feels more like a temptation. More like a trap. Meant to seduce me into going out, only to?—

What would happen if I ventured beyond this room? There is something inside of me that promises Hades will not harm me. If it were his intention, I believe he would have done so already. Yesterday, with his bloodied hands, he could have silenced meeasily. I believe so much to be true, as much as I believe his brutality is worse than the stories we’ve been told.

I go a few steps towards it, testing the invisible chains that bind me to the room. They do not pull me back. If I move my arms quickly enough, they arethere, certainly—bound to the Underworld, maybe? Bound to Hades? But they let me move toward whatlookslike freedom.

No. I simply do not trust that itisfreedom.

I go back to where I was. With warm food and wine in my belly and energy in my blood, my suspicions are heightened. Days ago, I might have run into the hall, too desperate to think clearly, but now I wait.

For what?A soft voice in the back of my mind asks.

For him,another voice answers. Or perhaps it is the same voice.

For the man who sleeps at my side at night. For the man who holds me close to him so I can share his warmth although he’s the one responsible for the cold. For the man who kissed me as we looked into the heights of heaven and the depths of hell. For the man who showed me eternal torment, and eternal rest, and rules over them both.

I bite my lip, considering. I could call for him, I think. There is certainty within me that he would come if only I called. I could make it known that I wish to be in his presence. Would he believe that? Would he come to me, as I wait for him?

I have no choice but to wait for him, whereas Hades can go wherever he pleases.

What would I say, if he was here?

Would I ask him what the open door meant?

Would his answer mean anything to me?

And what of my powers? I have yet to do the most simplest of things. Ask him for them back. I do believe he’s stolen them somehow through my dreams.

Questions float idly in my mind. I wrap my arms around myself. It is not the questions I wish for in this moment. It is his warmth. When I have had a few morsels to eat, my body focuses on the cold instead. One problem solved leads to another to be dealt with, and I am cold still.

Answers would help,that voice whispers.

Maybe they would.

Maybe they wouldn’t.

I rub briskly at my arms, watching the hall outside these rooms for signs of danger.

There are none. The hall remains a hall. Silent and still.

I turn away and go to the table near the window. Light pours through the enormous panes of glass, but what light is it? After Hades took me along that path, it is impossible to believe that my eyes show me simple reality. The world outside the window is something other than what it seems. Hades’s realm contains many lands, and many souls. From my place at the table, it looks well-ordered, almost calm, but beneath the surface, it seethes with punishments and torture. And rooms beyond rooms that only have one door house so many souls, many with agony that will last for eternity.

And…it also holds peace, for those who have been granted it.

I nibble a small amount of bread and a glistening seed of pomegranate. The sweetness bursts onto my tongue just as it did the first time I tasted one of the seeds. The food here makes me stop and savor every bite. It does not matter that I am no longer starving. There’s something about the food. About the Underworld itself…

Putting a name to it remains impossible. I have thought of it every time I’ve taken my place at this table. Every time I’ve looked out the window to the hills of crystals and buildings and land beyond.

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