The Inevitable

Kathlene stood at the fireplace with me as I watched the paper symbolizing my vulnerability turn into ashes. Her arms around my shoulders were warm against my bare skin. For once it didn’t matter that I was clad only in my boxer briefs. My mind was occupied with other things.

Pete weighed heavily on my mind. In spite of my attempt to suppress and deny the possibility I would never see him again, the thought kept escaping into my consciousness. The fear I was trying to put behind me crept back in, causing me to shiver.

"Brian, honey, you have to be cold," Kathlene said with quiet urgency.

I didn’t respond, continuing to gaze into the flames before me. She gently tried to pull me away from the blaze but I resisted silently. At that moment the fire held an allure I couldn’t explain even to myself. I slipped out of her embrace and carefully sat in front of the hearth without taking my eyes from the flames. I felt Kathlene walk away from me and returned a moment later to place a quilt over my naked shoulders.

"Can I get you anything, Brian?" Kathlene asked with concern.

I shook my head once in a sharp motion.

"I’m here if you need me, sweetheart," Kathlene said gently, her worry evident in her voice. "All you have to do is ask."

Although I heard her words, I still didn’t respond. As I leaned slightly toward the fireplace, I rested my elbows on my knees and steepled my fingers before my lips. Thoughts of hopelessness rampaged through my mind. The mental door I’d closed on my fears burst open and they hit me at full force.

Is all of this really worth it? I wondered. How can I possibly know if I will ever see Pete again? I’ve spent over two years of my life waiting for something that could be only a pipedream; something that may never happen. How long should I wait? Two years was a long time, especially at my age. Had Pete waited for me? Why hasn’t he tried to contact me in all this time? Does he ever want to see me again? Does he even remember me?

I nearly drove myself insane with the brutality of my own thoughts and doubts. There was a reason I had been where I was when Pete came out to me. I had felt something so strongly that I’d rejected my own parents because of it, but was that feeling a child’s impulse or a rational, real emotion, if emotions can be called rational? Was I throwing a huge tantrum over - and for - nothing?

Some time later, Kathlene returned. I hadn’t moved at all except to close my eyes as I thought. She approached hesitantly, not wanting to disturb me. When I opened my eyes she knelt down in front of me and called my name, quietly placing her hand on my shoulder. Awareness of my body came back slowly and I painfully realized I had no idea how long I’d been sitting there. I felt stiff all over. Sitting up straight and stretching produced some pops and snaps that didn’t feel terribly good. When I met Kathlene’s eyes they were filled with worry.

"Are you okay, hon?" She asked. "You’ve been sitting here for a long time."

"Yeah," I croaked. "Just got a lot on my mind."

"Let me get you some juice, sweetheart." Kathlene offered.

She walked to the kitchen leaving me struggling to rein in my jumbled thoughts and feelings. Outside I was projecting a calm exterior, but inside all was chaos.

The front door opened and David followed Chris into the house. I didn’t look at them but continued staring into the fire. I was afraid if I looked at Chris and saw the loving concern in his eyes I would lose the tenuous control I had over my emotions. I heard David whisper something to Chris but did not hear Chris respond. Together the brothers walked downstairs, leaving me alone until Kathlene returned. She sat next to me and handed me a large glass of orange juice. I took a sip and set the glass on the coffee table behind me.

"What are you thinking about, Brian?" Kathlene asked in a curious but caring tone.

I went back to staring at the fire as I gave her the answer she knew was coming.

"Pete," I said flatly.

"What are you thinking about him?" Kathlene asked.

"I’m never going to see him again," I stated.

"Why are you thinking that?" She asked with mild surprise.

"Because it’s the truth," I said acerbically.

"Brian, honey," Kathlene said gently, "you can’t know that."

I didn’t answer her. She moved closer to me and pulled me against her, wrapping her arms around me. I rested my head on her shoulder as bitter tears filled my eyes. My emotional dam threatened to burst.

"Brian, there is no way to know what the future will bring," Kathlene chided softly. "If God means for you two to be together, then you will be together. I have faith in that."

"I can’t!" I said sharply. "It’s been two years and I haven’t heard a word from him. How am I supposed to have faith that I’m going to see him again? How long am I supposed to wait? How long do I have to hide...." I closed my mouth with an audible click. I’d almost given it all away to her. There was no way I could tell her that I’d fallen for her son, and that it was destroying me a little bit each day.

"What are you hiding, Brian?" Kathlene asked after a pause.

"What I am." I replied quietly.

"What are you?" She questioned just as quietly.

"You know already."

"Tell me. What are you?"

I didn’t answer her. I didn’t want to go there. There was nothing to say that she didn’t already know.

"Tell me, Brian." Kathlene’s tone was a quiet demand.

"Why? You know what I am."

"I want you to tell me anyway, honey." Kathlene stated.

I sighed in frustration and resignation and said, "I’m a faggot."

"You mean you’re a boy who is gay. I don’t like that other word."

I shrugged and said, "Same thing."

"I don’t think so. Regardless, I don’t want you to use that term any more."

"Whatever."

"Brian, what’s really bothering you? It’s more than Pete or being gay. If that’s all it was, you’d..."

I sent Kathlene sprawling when I leapt to my feet and yelled, "If that’s all? That’s a lot! I’m a fag, which makes me really popular at school," I said, my voice thick with sarcasm, "and I’m in love with someone who might as well be on another planet! That’s all?" I asked incredulously.

"Brian, sit down and talk to me."

"Why? You don’t understand, so what’s the fucking use?" I asked bitterly.

As I walked to the stairs, I saw David barreling up toward me.

"You don’t talk to her like that!" he ordered as he tried to grab my arm.

"Don’t touch me, asshole!" I barked as I jumped back a step.

David continued advancing toward me, rage radiating from his face. I stepped back again as he made another move to grab me.

"Keep away from me!"

"David, leave him alone," Kathlene said calmly.

"He can’t talk to you like that," David growled. "I won’t let him."

"Back off, man!" I snapped.

"David Michael Forn, you will not lay a hand on him. Leave him be."

Kathlene’s quiet maternal authority penetrated David’s anger. He stopped where he was and we locked eyes. His enraged glare mirrored mine.

"Now go back downstairs, please," Kathlene requested. "Brian and I aren’t done yet."

"Yes we are." I answered without looking away from David. "I’m going to bed."

I warily walked toward the stairs leading up to my room, but David blocked my way. His angry expression promised retribution and I vowed to myself that it would not be without cost to him.

"David, leave him be!" Kathlene’s whip-like voice held the tone of command that could not be ignored.

David responded immediately, not willing to risk provoking his mother further. He stepped aside and let me pass, but did not drop his eyes from mine. I backed up the stairs until I was at the door to my room. Only then did I turn away from his smoldering fury.

"How can you let that f… that kid talk to you like that?" David asked his mother when I disappeared into my room, his voice thick with suppressed fury. I left my door open to listen to the exchange.

"It doesn’t matter, David."

"Like hell it doesn’t! You took him into our house and he treats both of you like crap!"

"David, language please," Kathlene interjected calmly.

As if he hadn’t heard, David continued, "You give him our home and he repays you by stepping all over you! You let him abuse you! If he’ll yell at you like that, what does he do with Chris?"

"Why don’t you ask me, Davey?" Chris asked.

"You stay out of this, spud," David said dismissively to his younger brother before turning back to Kathlene. "How much are you going to take from him, mom? What has to happen? Does someone – does one of you have to get seriously hurt before you realize how messed up in the head he is?"

"David, that’s enough," Kathlene said with an edge. "There are circumstances here that you don’t understand."

"Oh, I understand just fine," David spat. "The kid says he’s a fag and in love with another guy, his parents object, and he runs away like a spoiled brat!"

"David!" Kathlene barked, the stern steel in her voice bringing David up short. "Not another word. I’ve told you to leave Brian alone, and I mean it. There are other forces at work here, and I won’t have you destroying that child because you don’t understand them. You will be civil and keep your feelings to yourself. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"It was and is a huge mistake to let him stay here, mom." David said warningly.

"That is not your decision. Leave Brian alone. Do I make myself clear?" Kathlene demanded more forcefully.

David didn’t answer but stomped down the stairs. I peeked out the door to see Kathlene standing where I’d left her. Her face was flushed and drawn up in a scowl. Chris was out of my view but I could hear him trying to talk to David. Kathlene looked up and caught my eye. It wasn’t until then that I realized tears were falling down my cheeks. I pulled back into my room and closed the door. Quietly.

__________________________________

For the rest of the time he was home, David and Chris were inseparable. They worked out together, ate together, ran together and hung out together. Chris always invited me to go along, but I felt like I didn’t belong there with them and begged off, saying I wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t really a lie either. The stress made my stomach weak so I was lucky to keep anything down for any length of time for the entire week David was home.

It was obvious that David didn’t like me, and that it was personal. I don’t know what it was all about, but he really didn’t care for me as a person and the feeling was mutual. For Chris’ and Kathlene’s sake, we kept everything polite when we did have to interact like at dinner - when I could eat, anyway - and in the evenings. I mostly stayed out of David’s way, and when I was around him I never let him out of my sight out of a sense of self-preservation. If he felt he’d won a victory of sorts, then that was fine. At least I didn’t have to talk to him except to ask him to pass the potatoes.

I kept to myself, running and working out alone, which was in direct violation of Kathlene’s edicts. When I was home, I confined myself to my room and spent my time working on homework or re-reading some of my old books. Kathlene knew exactly what I was doing and she all but begged me to spend some time with the brothers while they were together, but I refused. I didn’t want to subject myself to the hostility I felt in the air when in David’s presence.

I took to wedging my door shut with a chair because I no longer felt safe with David in the house. When Chris or Kathlene would knock, I would ignore them and continue doing whatever it was that held my attention at that point in time. They both tried to open the door at one time or another, but I didn’t respond to their requests to remove the barricade I had erected.

David flew out on January second. I was asked by Kathlene to accompany them to the airport to see David off, and I was tempted to go just so I could piss him off, put but I didn’t. I stayed at home and powered through a short workout. By the time Chris and Kathlene returned, I was in the shower.

Wrestling practice was a godsend. Not only could I keep out of their way, but I could get in some exercise too. We had a meet coming up January fifth and I wanted to make sure I was ready for it.

It was getting harder and harder to maintain my weight class as my adolescent body grew into adulthood. I was at the point where I really had to watch what I ate. It was bad enough that my workouts had been cut in half, but now I had more lean bodyweight with which to contend which meant that I had less fat to burn.

Fruit and vegetables became the staples of my diet. I ate a lot of lettuce and celery, which had few or no calories along with my steady diet of carrots, bananas, apples, peas and corn. Kathlene bought my food for me, but it was up to me to fix it since it wasn’t part of the main meal she would normally cook. I didn’t mind because I got to control the size of my portions. I ate cereal with just a splash of milk for breakfast, that is, when I ate breakfast. It seemed that the cereal made me sick on most mornings I ate it. Orange juice, a long time favorite of mine, was causing unbelievable heartburn, so I had to stop drinking it. I replaced it with watered down apple juice. Chris watched what I ate like a hawk. He couldn’t believe that I could be satisfied with what little I did eat, but I assured him I was.

I put in extra effort at practice in an attempt to keep any extra weight off so I wouldn’t have to fight it on the days of our matches, but when the evening of the fourth rolled around, I found I was still a pound over weight. I skipped dinner that night much to Chris’ surprise and Kathlene’s dismay. My reasoning didn’t please her, but she let me be after promising me this would not become a habit if she could help it.

The match went fairly well. I won again on points against a decent opponent. Coach Navarro took a good look at me before the match but said nothing outside of the usual last minute instruction and encouragement. I got the sense he had finally understood what I’d been telling him the whole time about my situation within the team. His glances at my teammates carried some additional weight I hadn’t noticed before.

School was going full bore again. I fell back into a familiar routine of practice, school, finagling Chris into working out or running with me, and then homework. An attempt to sleep usually followed, but not always.

My weaknesses continued to plague me. Between the time David had been home and my own self-imposed isolation, it had been a full month since I had last escaped my nightmares into the solace of Chris’ presence. Every time I went in there I condemned myself for the need and the vulnerability that caused it to arise. Try as I might I could not shake the hold my dreams exerted over my mind. Nothing I did seemed to help. Despair began to creep in as I resigned myself to the constant nightmares and the sleep deprivation they caused either through waking me or my trying to avoid them by not sleeping.

After a time, wrestling season ended. I had done well for a freshman, the coaches said, having made it to the district finals. They were excited to have me back the next year. I took no pride in my accomplishment, as I took no pride in the continuance of my straight "A" grade point.

Chuck Jefferies and his friends realized in short order that no one was protecting me anymore since Navarro and Dalton were no longer seeing me on a daily basis. Chucky, Greg Ross and Jim Logan found me alone on several occasions when I was running. The scene was never pretty. They didn’t break anything, so I guess that was a bonus, but I felt helpless to do anything about it. I fought back, but even with my strength, my small size and lack of allies put me at an extreme disadvantage.

I did my best to hide the results of the assaults from Chris and Kathlene, but it was difficult to say the least. I again took up the habit of wearing sweats and long sleeves no matter what when I was at home. This made them curious, and I knew I couldn’t hide it forever.

Dr. Edelstein had given me his okay after months of semi-weekly meetings. We discussed all sorts of topics from my school work to my sexuality, a topic about which I blatantly lied to him. He continually asked me about my life at home and how I was dealing with the stress of school and sports. I told him the truth: my stress level had skyrocketed due to my lack of a physical outlet, but I was learning to deal with it. He made the recommendation that I be given more freedom as far as my physical routine went, something Kathlene and Chris welcomed. I had made myself a royal pain in the ass for both of them, constantly asking her for an exception to the restrictions or badgering him to run or work out.

The physicals I was forced to endure every other week proved that I was doing fine. I convinced the doctor that the bruises I was getting in practice were normal, so he didn’t report them. The powers that were insisted that I continue to take them the examinations until everyone was satisfied that all was well with my body.

When the second semester started, Chris and I only shared our third period Advanced Placement Science class. We had been split up for lunch as well, which was a mixed blessing. I found that I wasn’t hungry most days and spent my lunch period either in the library reading, or running, which I wouldn’t have been able to do if Chris and I had shared the same lunch period. In the time I had for lunch I could get in two or three miles and still have time to shower and get back to class. Coach Dalton happened to teach the Phys Ed class that period, and I saw him giving me long looks with a thoughtful expression every time I passed him. He had seen some of the marks left on me by my attackers and asked me about them. I told him that I got it from working out. He didn’t believe me.

Between school and practice, the only time Chris and I saw each other was during dinner and when we did our homework together, which was becoming less often as I began to increase my workout routine.

Track season gave me a legitimate excuse to run long distances. I took the long sprints again since I was already used to running several miles a day. The coach told me the first day of practice that he would be watching me and that I was not to overdo it, but I quickly found that he had different things to concern himself with other than my exceeding the required distance on our daily running.

Once again my desire for Chris was coming to the fore and destroying any peace I might have when with him. Although I sometimes slept in his room, unless we were working out or doing homework I spent my time alone. The pressure was placing a tremendous burden on me. The stress made my stomach nervous and my hands shake almost uncontrollably. It was difficult to keep things down. I took to a bland diet, which helped some.

My enemies caught me out one night on a run. They beat the crap out of me, and I couldn’t even put up a fight. My body just wouldn’t respond. Kathlene and Chris both demanded to know what happened, and I told them, but not who had done the deed. This infuriated them both and the tension between us rose to a new high. I felt like I didn’t have their trust anymore, and that I couldn’t go to them for help when I needed it.

In mid-April I began to notice the times I was putting in during practice were getting slower. My endurance wasn’t what it had been earlier in the season, and I attributed that to my constant state of exhaustion finally taking its toll. I began to moderate my workout routine in an attempt to regain some strength, lowering my weights and cutting reps, but it didn’t seem to help. When I looked in the mirror I could see the weight I had gained due to my decreased endurance and it disgusted me. I knew I needed to do something or I was going to get fat, so I again went back to my regular workout routine.

Chris spotted me while I lifted, watching with a neutral expression the whole time I was exercising. It bothered me because Chris was usually pretty animated when we worked out. I called him on it after completing my last set of bench presses in the last week of April.

"What’s up, Chris? You’ve been walking around like someone died."

"Nothing’s up," he lied.

I glared at Chris and responded, "Don’t give me that shit, Chris. I know you too well to believe that."

He glared right back. "You really wanna know what’s wrong?"

"Yeah."

"You’re what’s wrong," he said heatedly.

"Me? What do you..."

"Are you trying to kill yourself, Brian?" Chris bluntly asked.

"Where the hell did that come from?" I asked angrily.

"I watch you," he said with intensity, "and I see what you’re doing."

My confusion was clear. "Chris, what on earth are you talking about?"

"How many days a week do you work out?" Chris queried.

"I d-don’t know..." I stammered.

"Seven!" He yelled. "Seven days a week, even though mom told you not to! How often do you go running?

"I..."

"I’ll tell you! You run between eight and ten times a week between lunch, practice and the runs we take."

"So?" Chris had caught me unaware. My brain wasn’t working.

"So? So? Jesus Christ, Brian! You only get three or four hours of sleep on a good night. You have a bowl of cereal in the morning, nothing for lunch, and eat rabbit food for dinner!"

"I eat," I said defensively.

"Right," he said sarcastically. "I told you I’ve seen your meals. I know what you eat, Brian. We’ve practically been Siamese twins for two years! You can’t hide it from me, Brian. You say you know me? Well, I know you too."

He repeated the brutal question. "What are you trying to do? Kill yourself ?"

"You’re exaggerating just a little bit, Chris."

He held up his hands. "All right. If you won’t listen to me, fine. But I’m not going to help you. Find someone else to work out with."

He walked out of the weight room without a backward glance.

"Fuck you!" I shot at his retreating form.

Laying down on the bench, I lifted the bar with a jerk and started pumping out reps as fast as I could. Without warning my arms gave way and the bar landed on my chest. It was all I could do to roll it down my body and into my lap. I sat up and cursed Chris, myself, and God for putting me in that place while my body shook with anger.

I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I was doing everything I could to stay healthy, but it seemed like I was losing strength, not gaining it. It made me angry that my weaknesses were growing, and deep inside, it frightened me too.

My depression had reached new depths. Pete was once more on my mind and wouldn’t leave me alone. Dreams would come anywhere day or night. They were a strange mix of Chris and Pete, sometimes both of them, and they were always disturbing.

Things continued to worsen. Chris and Kathlene took to spying on me to make sure I was eating and taking care of myself. I accused them of checking up on me and they didn’t deny it! They both watched me storm away and then put their heads together to plot against me some more. It seemed I could never catch a break.

There came a point where I couldn’t keep anything down. I knew Kathlene would say something if she knew I wasn’t eating. I didn’t want to face her wrath so I ate what I made for myself and then purged it afterward since I knew my body would do so anyway.

I had stopped making my nightly sojourn to Chris’ room after we had fought. I was just too tired, and I really didn’t want to be around him.

In school, Phys Ed and track practice were near torture. I kept up appearances as best I could but afterwards I could barely move. Mr. Dalton told me to go home on the afternoon of April 29^th after I collapsed on the track during a run. I told him I had just tripped because I was too tired. He told me not to come back to school until I was rested.

The next morning when my alarm sounded, I reached over and turned it off with an oddly weak, badly shaking hand. I felt ill. Nothing wanted to work. Sitting up took a huge effort and made me dizzy enough that it was impossible to stand. I collapsed back into my bed and immediately drifted back into a deep sleep.

_____________________________

Pete watched me with a sad expression dominating his young face as I approached. He was beautiful: more beautiful than I imagined. Pete was clad in a navy blue suit with a white shirt and red tie. I stopped a few feet from him and took in his appearance. His eyes were sparkling yet troubled, their color somehow emphasizing Pete’s somber demeanor.

"Is it really you?" I asked hesitantly.

"Maybe," Pete replied. "I don’t know."

For the first time I looked around me. We were in a sparsely furnished room with wrought iron furniture: a bed with a mattress, a chair with a cushion, a vanity with a marble top and a mirror. A blazing hearth stood in the center of the wall near the chair but it cast less heat and illumination than one would think it should. Cold white light came in through the single window in the room positioned high in the wall opposite the bed, its intense shaft of light falling on the stark white pillow which, along with a white blanket, were the only adornment in the room. The walls were seemingly painted in a light bluish color, but that was an illusion created by the acerbic lighting. There was no door that I could see.

"Where are we?" I wondered aloud.

"I don’t know," Pete replied once again.

He was still observing me as I moved about the room. His expression hadn’t changed in the slightest. His eyes seemed to have the same iciness that everything else in the room had.

"How do we get out of here?" I asked, hoping for more of a response than I’d received to my previous questions.

Pete shrugged. "I don’t know."

"Do you know anything?" I questioned heatedly.

He just shrugged again.

As my frustration built, I attempted to move the chair from its place by the bed to underneath the window, but the chair was held stationary by an unseen force. I turned and looked around the room again, my visual search yielding nothing new. Pete still stood there watching me.

"What do you want, Pete?" I demanded. "What am I doing here?"

"I told you. I don’t know."

"You have to know."

"Why?" He asked simply.

"Because… because you were here first!" I stated, knowing how stupid it sounded.

Pete shrugged again. "Sometimes we don’t get all the answers. Sometimes we don’t get any."

"Well thank you for that brilliant insight," I sarcastically replied as I looked away in frustration.

Pete sat on the bed as he spoke. "Go ahead and be mad at me. It’s not going to change the situation."

"And what exactly is the situation?" My tone was still caustic, and grated on even my own nerves.

Pete just stared at me, his face finally shifting from that look of pity to something nearing anger. But he remained silent.

"Am I supposed to stay here until I starve to death?" I asked hotly.

"You know what your problem is Brian? You’re always the victim. Your parents knew I was going away and didn’t tell you, so you ran away." Pete screwed up his face to mimic a crybaby rubbing his eyes. "Poor little Brian. The whole world is out to get him."

"You know what?" I started angrily. "Fuck you, alright? It wasn’t that simple."

Pete negated my statement with a slash of his hand. "Bullshit. It was that simple. All you had to do was accept that I was gone and live your life."

He paused a moment.

"You knew I was never coming back," Pete said brutally.

"No," I responded quietly, all haughtiness gone from my tone.

I turned away from him. "I never believed that. I thought it occasionally, but I never really believed it."

"I’m not coming back, Brian," Pete claimed savagely. "Get over it!"

I spun back toward Pete and roared, "No! I’ll find you!"

My words echoed emptily throughout the featureless cube. The bed was gone, as was the chair and vanity. Nothing remained but the walls, now dimly illuminated by an unseen source which cast no shadows. I ran my hand along the wall for the full circumference of the cell and found no seams or breaks of any kind. Claustrophobia was beginning to take hold of my mind as my heart rate and breathing accelerated.

When I could take it no more, I bellowed, "Where am I?

"Exactly where you put yourself, son."

I recognized the voice as that of my father and spun to face him.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

"You put yourself here, Brian," he explained. "You did this to yourself."

"Did what?" My patience was wearing thin.

"Put yourself in this place," was his response.

"I don’t get it."

He shrugged. "I can’t tell you anymore. You have all the answers already."

"The answers to what?’ I demanded.

"To all of your questions," my dad said as if instructing a little child.

I was fuming. "Can’t you guys give a straight answer?".

"Who are you talking about?" he queried. "It’s just you and me here."

"I was just talking to Pete a second ago," I stated.

My father didn’t reply. I rubbed my eyes in frustration. I was getting really confused and irritated with his circular reasoning, and I didn’t know how much longer I could stay in that cube until I lost it completely.

"Brian, I’m the only person who has been here since you arrived," my mother asserted.

My head shot up, my eyes wide in fear. "That’s not possible. I was just talking to Dad!"

"He’s been gone for over a year now, Brian. Surely you remember that. He died when you left home."

"Dad didn’t die. He’s alive. I know he is." Panic began to creep into my voice.

"Oh, he’s alive," mom said, "but when you left home, you killed him."

"I don’t understand."

She shrugged. "Your dad blames himself for everything you’ve been through, and it emotionally crippled him. All he does now is work and watch television."

"But, how? Why? I didn’t mean anything to him."

The vision of my mom shimmered and left Kathlene standing in her place. I gawked at the changeling.

"You know that’s a lie, Brian. Of course you meant something to him. You mean something to us all."

"Then why did they betray me?" I pleaded for an answer.

"Because they made a choice and it turned out wrong. They didn’t set out to betray you, Brian. They made a mistake. That’s all it was, and that’s all they’re guilty of."

"No," I spat. "That’s… It… They hurt me!"

"But not on purpose!" Kathlene shot back. "The only person hurting anybody intentionally is you, Brian Andrew Kellam! You have the choice to let this all rest, but you perpetuate it with your hate and anger. You trapped yourself!"

"No!" I yelled the denial. "That can’t be true!"

"You put yourself in this prison, Brian. Now you need to find a way out."

I bellowed the question, "How?"

Kathlene’s body began to fade to nothingness.

"That too is something you must find for yourself."

With those final words, she vanished.

The walls of the cube were fading rapidly, leaving me in a vast expanse of space with a white floor stretching out in all directions to the black void beyond at the horizon. Turning a full circle, I saw nothing to differentiate any one direction from another.

"What now?" I asked loudly.

No one answered.

I started jogging. There was nothing to run to, so it seemed as if I was stationary on the featureless white floor. Other than the air passing my body I had no other way to tell I was moving at all. It was disconcerting. I looked around as I ran, searching for even the slightest deviation that might hint at an object somewhere in the distance.

An unknowable time later I began to see a dark gray spot on the horizon directly in front of me. As I approached it, the spot grew lighter until it was the color the floor. As I got closer, the boundary of the floor began to appear. When I reached the edge, the spot turned into a rectangle about the size of the door, looking exactly like the floor. Beyond the door was a black void. On a whim I extended my arm out beyond the edge of the floor. The instant they passed through the boundary, my fingers were struck by a cold so intense that they lost sensation immediately. I jerked my hand back to find that my extremities were bleached as white as the floor. With my other hand I felt my fingers. They seemed to be frozen.

An immense fatigue struck me immediately and it was all I could do to sit and then lay down without just falling over. The last thing I remember before losing consciousness was staring into the featureless black void.

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