<h4>Chapter 43: Escape II</h4>


    I tried recalling how I got in here. Was I thrown down from above?


    I stood up and stared at the ceiling for a long time, but because of the light, I couldn’t see anything else.


    I noticed a serious problem – I was losing track of time.


    And I was quickly getting hungry. Each time that happened, I would rush to the metal bowl and gulp everything down.


    I did not produce any excretion since the soup was barely sufficient to keep me alive.


    At times, the house would tremble so I was convinced that it was located in an earthquake-active zone.


    Yet, I was unable to send any message out.


    I could only wait for the metal bowl to be filled up, time and time again.


    One thing I was thankful for, though, was that this meager amount of soup made me lose some weight.


    I was looking forward to fitting into the hole.


    I wanted so badly to see what was on the other end.


    I hoped for it to be an exit since I really had no other way out.


    My routine became monotonous. I would simply sleep and drink my soup.


    Recable memories became scarce.


    Initially, I could clearly see myself signing on contracts but as time passed, I started forgetting if it was a pen or a seal that I was holding onto.


    And the other piece of memory – the kids’ faces – were long gone.


    And the horse too.


    As fragments started disappearing, I started resenting the person who threw me in here.


    I wanted to crush his bones. What could I possibly have done to deserve this?


    Why would he lock me in and torture me like this?


    Without a watch or ess to sunlight, I had no idea how much time had passed.


    However, it was a fact that I was getting skinnier.


    Weaker as well, and because I was sleeping so much, it became hard to move about.


    I started some basic movements since I was afraid that a body that was too weak would hinder me from crawling out of the hole.


    My hands were out of strength. They simply swung about like a jellyfish.


    I started jogging slowly and throwing punches at the wall.


    With much effort and persistence, I was gradually able to move freely.


    Nevertheless, my memory waspletely gone and I had even forgotten my own name.


    Then again, I never knew my name from the start. All I could think of was a way to escape this hellhole.


    I startedparing my size against the hole regrly, awaiting the day that I would finally be able to squeeze in.


    Once, I fell asleep and was jolted awake by an intense tremor.


    The whole house was trembling and I figured that a major earthquake was about to hit.


    Without a choice, I consumed myst bowl of soup before throwing it aside.


    I attempted to crawl into the hole. So close.


    I held my breath and tried pushing myself in again.


    The hole was extremely narrow and while I managed to fit in, there simply was no extra space within.


    In spite of that, I had to wriggle to further in.


    I got stuck, of course, but giving up wasn’t an option.


    I was so sick of that ce and all I wanted was freedom.


    That alone was enough to keep me going.


    The shaking never stopped. Was the house going to copse?


    I started forcing my way in despite the agony.


    Regret set in. It would’ve been easier if I had just waited a little longer.


    I brushed all thoughts aside as a soft, delicate voice entered my ears.


    It sounded as though I had earplugs on and the voice seemed to being from the other side of the wall.


    I listened carefully.


    It was slightly echoey.


    “Rx, don’t be nervous.”


    “Deep breath, rx.”


    “Almost there.”


    ...


    Was someone encouraging me? Was that my own heart speaking?


    I continued struggling my way in and I could feel my strength depleting.


    My body was getting heavier every passing second and I was tempted to go back for the soup.


    The voice returned and this time, I was certain that it wasn’t my own.


    “Not happening. Cut it open.”


    “It’s a premature birth. She fell and broke her water. Get her kin to sign this, it’s all ready.”


    “Lives will be lost if you drag this on. Do it.”


    ...


    I was at peace.


    Like someone who’s finally reached the shore after being stranded at sea for a long time.


    Like someone who came back from death’s door.


    Light started illuminating my body and I realized that I’d never opened my eyes to begin with.


    I felt a pair of huge hands grabbing and pulling me.


    Pulling me out from the sealed room.


    I was lifted and patted on the back.


    I started crying. Wailing.


    I was finally free.


    “It’s a boy. 3.6kg, congrattions.”


    Worth congratting, indeed.


    ...


    Years passed and I lost all memory of it.


    I am still a kid and there were new things waiting for me to learn and remember.


    Like how my father was a sessful businessman while my mother was an art teacher in an elementary school.