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dinalao-blog · 10 years ago

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shot in the dark > touch tunnel > os

After learning to set things aflame, I start to wander around the stations. There are tributes in pairs at so many of them, but as like yesterday, I am tired after the interaction at the fire-making station. Talking to people is so taxing, and I need to at least be alone for a short while. I see the Game Makers milling about, and I am silently thankful that they are with others at the moment. I’m not sure how I would keep conversation with them without boring them. Or angering them. Or…

I shake the thought off. At the moment, that is not my concern. I have not even seen Vodka today, since he left for training before I, so I should be thanking my lucky stars that the morning has gone so smoothly. My legs are warming up after the abuse from yesterday, but I know that is still no excuse to be taking it easy. I need to get rid of my reservations, before I’m forced to in the arena.

So when my tired feet take me to a dark station that looks like certain death, I don’t fight it.

There is no one around besides the trainer, which is the only good part of the station. Every single other aspect of this activity makes me want to turn around and run back to my suite. But I plant my feet in front of the instructor and listen instead, knowing fully well that I’m going to force myself to do whatever they say. The trainer is a young woman, with weathering on the corners of her mouth as she speaks. Her hair is in a painful yet crisp knot. I focus so intently on her, because I don’t want to think about what’s behind her.

“Well, it looks like one of you finally got the guts to get over here. This is the touch-tunnel, One.” She starts, waving her hand over the black apparatus. “You go in, and you can’t see. Nothing. At all, not even your hand in front of your face. There’s no light in there, and it’s your job to find the end. The entrance closes off once you get inside that thing, so don’t think about turning back.”

That’s all she says before she shoves me forward.

I’m kneeling inside of a black hole, hearing a door clang shut behind me. And she’s correct. I cannot see a thing. I’m not sure if that is good for me or not, but I try to press through it. I’m not sure if this will have to do with the arena at all, or if the Game Makers just enjoy watching us like lab rodents. I can’t hear anything outside of this bleak labyrinth, only the echoing of whatever sound I make. I extend my hand, finding the right wall, and try to see if I can find a bend, a turn in the path. It proves futile, so I start crawling.

I hope they cleaned this thing before they installed it here. There could be dust, or mice, or…

Stop. You need to stop, I tell myself. I keep crawling with one hand out in front of me, eyes straining, trying to find any purchase at light. Of course, there is none, but that does not stop me from trying. Eventually as I scoot forward, I find a turn to the left and follow. I’m glad to finally be making progress. So glad, in fact, that I slam into a wall because I was not paying attention. I grit my teeth and double back, rubbing my nose that was shoved into the wall. I’m not sure how much longer this dark hallway is, but I do not like it.

I continue on, with each pace sticking my hand in front of me to check that a wall-collision will not happen again. Time and time again, I bump into the corner of sharp edges, cursing under my breathe. I’m being bruised in these tiny hallways, and I could swear that they are getting more narrow as I go on. It’s harder to breathe, and again I’m forced to stop. Hunched, I sit and hold my head, focusing on just my lungs. I can’t go back the way I came, I know that. I know. I know.

I stay hunched over for a long while, trying to figure out how to get out of this black hell. I need to get out, not just for the sake of getting out. If I can complete this, I tell myself, I have improved. I try to forget the walls that touch my hips, and the confined oxygen that seems to be fleeting, and the thin layer of dust collected inside of these hallways that are perhaps never cleaned. I try to forget, because if I think about it, I will never find my way out.

So I shut my eyes. They’re useless anyway, and struggling to see in an obviously-blind crawlspace is distracting me more than it’s worth. By completely blocking out even the attempted use at my vision, I’m able to concentrate. I inch forward, tapping the walls with my fingers. This method takes forever, but at least I’m not crashing into things any longer.

And then I hit a dead end.

I nearly scream in frustration. I must have went the wrong way, and missed a corner I was supposed to turn in. I don’t even know if I have room to turn around in these cramped quarters, but I try anyway. Pressing on the wall in front of me to try and get traction to turn around, I –

The wall swings open, and I topple out onto the far side of the training center. Righting myself, I push up to my feet. My knees unhinge from their crouched position, singing praise that they get to extend again. I stretch, grinning ear to ear after finally escaping. I’m not sure how long I was in there, and I don’t really care. Hair clings to the nape of my neck in a sweat-smeared fuse, and I’m still short of breath from the humid little tunnels, but I’m secretly proud of myself.

And then, I go right back into the touch tunnel. The trainer looks at me as if I’m insane, double-taking to make sure she’s really seeing the picky girl from One diving back into the entrance. But I just smile at him and crawl in, this time wanting to improve my time. I hit only a few bumps along the road, but I’m out far faster than the first time. I don’t try it again, because I have other things to be doing with my time, but I’m still smiling when I walk away from the tight-bunned trainer and the black pit of doom.

#os #trainingday2 #touchtunnel #shotinthedark

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