The Void Read online

  “He’s not going to die! Neither are we. Stop saying that.”

  “Do you remember meeting Ryan for the first time?” I asked.

  “It was at that restaurant by the beach, wasn’t it? We met him for breakfast.”

  “That’s right. Do you remember what he said to you that day?”

  She frowned. “He said a lot of things. I’m not sure which part you mean?”

  “He said he was happy to see his best friend so happy.”

  “That’s nice,” Keri said. “Sounds like the kind of thing he’d say.”

  “Do you know what I said?”

  “I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter, Jon. All of this doesn’t matter.”

  “I said he wasn’t my best friend. I laughed at him, and made a joke. You thought I was just messing around. You assumed that’s the sort of relationship the two of us had, but it wasn’t. It isn’t. I clearly remember the look of hurt on his face that day. Do you know why I’ve always treated him like that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said again.

  It did matter. It mattered very much. “Because I’ve always been jealous of him.” There, I finally said it out loud. It was amazing the things that came out when your life was hanging by a flimsy thread. Suddenly all the lies and pretence seemed pointless. “I’ve always been jealous of him. For no other reason than he’s a better person than me, and I hated that he made me so aware of it.”

  “You’re not a bad person, Jon. I wouldn’t have chosen to be with you if you were.”

  I turned to look at her then. She’d lost the extra weight lately, but at the same time there was a puffiness to her skin I’d never seen before. I reached out and ran my hand down her cheek, wondering when last I’d done something so intimate. She’d cried a lot in here, and her cheeks were stained from the constant stream. Was it possible to stain your own skin?

  “I honestly have no idea why you’d be with someone like me. I made you take kettlebells into this damn place.”

  She tried to laugh, but without the energy it came out sounding like a cough. “You’ve always been stubborn. The kettlebells were a good idea, you know. I mean, if we actually used them. I’m pretty sure we would’ve ignored whatever we bought in here. This place…” She gazed around, her head moving so slowly I wondered if her gaze would ever return to me. When it did, I had to look away. She was too raw right now, and every time I looked into her eyes I felt as if I was looking into a mirror. “This place is not like home,” she finally said. “You know what sucks?”

  “All of this?”

  A faint smile. “All of this, but not just that. The fact that you and I are getting on so well now. We should’ve been getting on like this at the start.”

  “It’s my fault,” I told her. “I’ve been an idiot. In this pod, and at home. I guess I took you for granted, Ke. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for bringing you into this place even though you didn’t want to come. I’m sorry for making it all about me. I’m sorry for every stupid thing I’ve ever said and done. I’m just so sorry.” Sorry wasn’t enough. I wanted to tell her I would make it up to her when we got out of here, but I no longer thought we were going to leave. Nobody was coming. This was it. This was how it ended for us. I would die knowing I had willingly taken down the woman of my dreams, and my best friend.

  “Don’t be sorry,” Keri said.

  “I am. I’m so damn sorry. Ryan’s not my best friend, you know. You are. He’s my good friend, though. My oldest friend. I never got the chance to tell him that.”

  The more I thought about Ryan all alone in his pod, the worse I felt. He didn’t deserve to die alone. If it wasn’t for me, he’d be back at home, taking those harmless selfies his fans loved so much. I’d given him such a hard time about those photos and videos, but only because of the attention he always got for it. Who were they hurting? Why had I made such a big deal of it? Why couldn’t I ever let people be who they wanted to be? I was about to ask Keri when she suddenly moved over to sit on my lap. I wrapped my arms around her, and rested my head on her shoulder. I wished there was something more I could do. Keri kept telling me that this wasn’t the end, but the more she said it, the less conviction she spoke with.

  “Do you really think someone is coming for us?” My face was still squashed against her, and my voice came out muffled and unclear. I hoped she hadn’t heard. The moment the words were out I knew I didn’t want an answer.

  She inhaled so deeply it felt as if I was on a rollercoaster, her body heaving up and plummeting down. She’d heard me. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter 38

  Melanie

  Was The Shawshank Redemption based on a true story? I’d seen the movie and read the book, but I now couldn’t remember. The only thing I could recall was that the guy had gotten out of his jail cell by slowly digging a hole through the wall. Something like that anyway. I moved around the small space, trailing my finger over the door, the wall, the pretend window I’d drawn. There had to be a way out of this place. The small vent at the top corner was out of reach. I’d already tried to reach it numerous times, and after plummeting down my makeshift ladder and almost dislocating my shoulder, I decided it wasn’t the way to go. I examined the bathroom, but it had been built inside the pod, so getting through it would only lead me to the same wall that already surrounded me. If I was going to chip my way out of this room, it was going to have to be inside the main area. But where? The walls to each side only led to the pod on the other side. The thought of someone else going through what I was going through didn’t comfort me, but filled me with a deep sense of anxiety. What if they had finished their food a long time ago? What if they were lying unconscious on the floor? I needed to find a way out. Not just for me, but for them.

  I walked the perimeter of the room a few times, until I eventually settled on the fake window I had made in my first week. Why had I chosen that exact spot to draw it? What if it had been a sign all along of a way out for me? I tried to feel if it was different to the rest of the wall, but I couldn’t be sure. My mind was not the most trusted thing at the moment. Still, it was worth a try. I couldn’t just sit around and wait to die. I already knew nobody was coming to get me, and there was no way this was the end for me. I had too many plans. Too much living to do out there. The only thing left to do was figure out how to get through the wall, and what to use to help me do it. The utensils in here were all plastic, which I was sure had been done on purpose. Was this the test? Did they want to see how we would find a way out? Could we have gotten out all along? I gazed around the room, searching for clues. Perhaps this was a game. Had the others already figured it out? Had I been too deep trying to still my mind and focus on myself to see what had been in front of me? My thoughts whirred with a million possibilities, each one both outrageous and plausible the more thought I gave it. Could that have been the challenge all along? I could no longer distinguish facts from theories, and the idea of this as one giant puzzle made me feel better.

  I scooped my pens out of my bag. I hadn’t drawn in a while, thanks to the lack of energy and desire. Using the tip of the pen, I began scraping the paint off the ‘window’, bit by bit. If I had to do this one layer at a time, I would. As bits of paint fell to the floor, I thought about how different I had felt coming into this place compared to how I felt now. Thinking I was just going to die, everything I did seemed to be devoid of meaning, and every action had seemed pointless. Yet what was so different between dying in here and dying in the outside world? There was a time limit out there too, the only difference was that we didn’t know when it was. It was a sobering thought, and a strange new energy soared through me as I picked at the paint. At one point the pen slipped from my hand, and after going to retrieve it I took a moment to examine my handiwork. Disappointment ran through me as my gaze settled on the dark brown patch that now sat in the corner of the ‘window’. If this was a puzzle then surely I’d have seen something else. Maybe a little latch, a switch, a marking of sorts. Or was I expe
cting too much, too soon? I moved back to it, and continued to scrape at the surface, this time with more vigour and anger than before. The truth was obvious. I wasn’t in the middle of some well thought out riddle. This wasn’t like one of those escape room games where one clue would lead to another and lead to another, and eventually lead me to freedom. The only hope I had was that somehow only the first layer of this room was secure, and that after that it would all come crumbling down. It seemed impossible, but what else did I have to go on? I had to at least try. I was no longer willing to give up on my life. Not when I’d come so close to regaining it.

  How long had I been doing this? I tried to count as I worked, just to get an idea of whether I was still in tune with the time as I had been before I came here, but it didn’t take me long to lose track. I went from counting to fifty-nine out loud to thinking about waffles. My mind moved from serious thoughts to frivolous ones, just as my moods changed from calm to manic. Manic was the one I returned to most frequently, the pendulum no longer swinging but stuck. I took a step back, my hands burning from the constant scrubbing, and my pencil looking as worn and weathered as I probably did. The only thing I’d managed to do was scrape off some paint. I shut my eyes, and inhaled. I was desperate to breathe some calmness and clarity back into my life, but nothing seemed to be working. Were the others as desperate as I was? Were they hitting that buzzer over and over again hoping that someone would come? Or was I the only one who had been left behind? It was hard to imagine that beyond these walls lay a living, breathing, pulsating world, a world where people walked and talked, and laughed and cried. A world where nobody knew how lucky they were simply to be alive. I had to find a way out. I couldn’t give up so quickly. My gaze fell on the little fridge, which still held five boxes of food. I’d be hungry, but if I had one box a day, I would at least have a little energy to see me through. The water situation wasn’t great either, but there was still water from the bathroom if I needed. If the water continued to flow, I would be okay in here. How long could you survive on water alone? I used to know these things, and I was sure I had it all figured out just the other day, but I didn’t trust my brain at the moment. A week? Two weeks? Less, more, I didn’t know. All I knew was that with only five days of food left, I needed to use that energy wisely. Could I really chip my way out of here with a pen? The idea seemed ludicrous, but I wouldn’t sit and wait for my death to come. I fished my notepad out of my bag again, and as I flipped through I watched as my drawings came to life. It felt as if someone else had done these, a serene version of the crazed woman I had become. Tears streamed down my face as I looked at my little companion. I had to get out of here. Not just for me, but for little Todd, wherever he was.

  “I’m going to make it.” My finger trailed along the lines of his body.

  My life hadn’t always been this way. Pre-Andy, of course. When had I turned into the sort of woman who let someone else define her? I could blame Andy all I wanted, but I was the one who had let him get away with it. Dying in here was like letting him win. I wrote HELP ME on a piece of paper, then tried to get it under the door. What if people were walking by without even knowing we were inside? There was a thin layer before the floor and the door, but my paper kept getting stuck on something half way out, and when I pulled it back in it was all crumpled. I tried again, going slower this time, trying to move over any obstacles that might be in the way. It took me almost ten tries, but I finally got it out. The feeling of something finally going my way was so overwhelming I cried. I imagined someone walking by and seeing my note, and the hope that coursed through my body made me tremble. I pictured them reading the words and opening the door, but… I groaned. Why had I only written HELP ME on the paper? Why had I not explained that the door was locked, and I was dying? What if someone picked that paper up and simply walked off and threw it in the trash? I was an idiot. I tore off another piece of paper, this time explaining who I was, and why I needed someone to get me out of here. This time, probably because of the first sheet, the paper wouldn’t go through. I tried over and over again, each time getting more and more frustrated. I gave up with the paper not even a quarter through. I glanced up at the patch on the wall and laughed at my feeble attempt of escape. I threw the pen across the room. I didn’t have the energy to throw it as hard as I wanted, but I shut my eyes and imagined it shattering into pieces. I didn’t want to give up, but I didn’t know what to do.

  Moments later, just as I was about to attempt to stand up again, the world went dark, then light again, and I thought I had fainted. I stood up, holding onto the wall for support.

  “Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?” I called.

  The light flickered on and off again, and I glanced up at the light bulb with fear.

  “No! Please don’t go. Please stay on.” I didn’t have many days left, but I’d have even less without any electricity. Could I eat those meals without heating them up? What if I got sick? What if—

  The lights flickered once more. Then died.

  Chapter 39

  Keri

  Jon and I were curled up on the bed, clinging to each other like caged animals with no one else to turn to. We never slept like this at home. There we had a big bed, and we each stuck to our sides of it. Even with outstretched hands we could only just touch, although sometimes I found myself crawling closer to the middle and kicking out my leg so that the edge of my big toe could touch his. We liked our space, which was why being in here had been so hard at first. Now we clung to each other, not wanting to be alone with our thoughts. The air felt damp. Despite our constant flushing of the toilet, the smell of urine remained. It mingled with the shampoo and mould-infested clothes that still lay in a heap on the shower floor. It seeped across our sanity line and into the room, and mixed with our own sweat and tears. If the lack of food didn’t kill us, this would. I thought I’d imagined the flickering of a light, but I hadn’t said anything. Jon was still asleep, his breathing so rapid I was sure he was right in the middle of a nightmare. The lights flickered again, and my body jerked in reaction. This time I was sure I hadn’t imagined it, only I couldn’t figure out if this was a good thing yet. I listened, waiting for someone to open the door, but nothing happened. Then, just as Jon stirred beside me, the lights went off.

  “Jon!”

  Jon jerked up in fright. “What? What’s going—” I felt him sitting up next to me, his hands clamouring for mine. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. The lights went off. Oh my god, Jon, what are we going to do? It’s so dark.”

  The darkness was overwhelming. I’d been desperate for the lights to go off during our first few days, but I’d adjusted and barely thought of it anymore. Now that the lights were out, all I wanted was for them to come back on. Without a window the room was so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I turned to Jon, but all I saw was black. I squeezed his hand.

  “It’s going to come back on,” he said. We seemed to take turns in being the positive one, and I was glad he had taken on the role now. He didn’t really believe it would come back on, and we both knew it, but pretending was easier.

  “I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be. This is a good sign. It means something is going on out there. It means nobody has forgotten us.”

  We stayed where we were, neither of us saying a word, and both of us hoping to hear the door open. How long had we been here now? I assumed it wasn’t as long as it felt, but it was hard to separate reality from my perceptions. Based on the state of my mind and body, I would say we’d been in here almost a month. Knowing we had run out of food only a day to three days ago, meant we had probably only been in here just over two weeks. There was no comfort in that thought. Time had lost meaning a while ago, and the only thing I had left to go on was the way I felt in each moment. I slept when I was tired and drank water when I was thirsty. The only thing stronger than my desire to get out of here at the moment was the need for food, and the thought of eating was becoming more and more a
ll-encompassing. I had never known hunger like this before, no matter how many of those stupid diets I’d done in the past. What had I been thinking? I wanted to go back in time and slap my younger self. My stomach made a weird sound, which seemed louder in the dark with nothing else to focus on.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Jon’s hand was still clasped firmly in mine and I didn’t want him to let go. It wasn’t like he could go far in here, but I couldn’t be alone.

  “We’re…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence. We were going to die in here, in the dark. Who would go first? I didn’t want to leave Jon alone in here, but I also didn’t want to be in here without him. How long did we have? “Jon, how long can people survive without food?”

  “We’re not going to die!” This time he seemed almost angry at me, as if needed me to pretend along with him.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  A strong desire to pee came over me, and I suddenly couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to the toilet. I’d been avoiding it, mostly because I didn’t want to see the pile of clothes and be reminded of my stupidity again. It was dark now, so at least I wouldn’t see it, but there was no chance I was going in there alone.

  “Please come to the toilet with me.” I sounded like a small child who was trying to be independent but who still needed her mother.

  “Of course,” he said, and I breathed a sigh of relief that he would be with me.

  For the first time I was glad the place was small. It was easy to navigate from the bedroom to the bathroom without worrying about what we would trip on. The smell that greeted us was not pleasant, but I tried to ignore it. We took turns, Jon suddenly needed to go at the sound of me going. Then we slowly made our way back to the bed. All plans of trying to escape had left me. What could we do in the dark? If I hadn’t come up with a way out in the light, I was definitely not going to find a way out without sight. My body trembled, and Jon wrapped the duvet back around us. We weren’t talking much anymore, because all conversations led back to our inevitable fate, and Jon seemed unable to muster much strength for pretence.