Don’t think.
Don’t think about the darkness pressing in on you. Don’t think about the vermin writhing out of the cracks to crawl over you. Don’t think about the oppressive silence, broken only by the rats scurrying in the corners.
Don’t think about the cold. Don’t think of how badly you’re shivering. Don’t think about the moisture and the drafts that are seeping in through the walls. Don’t think about the icy drops that are falling down from the ceiling.
Don’t think about the ropes biting into your wrists. Don’t think of how they’re cutting off your circulation. Don’t think of how your arms ache from supporting your body. Don’t listen to the creaking of the chain that you’re hanging from. Don’t think about how you can’t touch the ground.
Don’t think about the hunger that’s shriveling your stomach. Don’t try to remember the last time you ate. Don’t think about the thirst that’s burning your throat and making you half insane.
Don’t think about the pain. Don’t think about the bruises and the cuts and the welts. Don’t think about the broken ribs that are making it hard to breathe. Don’t think about the fever that’s invading you.
Don’t think about the footsteps in the corridor. Don’t think about the men coming back. Don’t think about the wooden club they have. Don’t listen to their taunts.
Hercules is coming.
Hold onto that. He’s never let you down before. He’s on his way. He’ll be here soon.
Don’t think of the look that will be on his face when he sees what they‘ve done to you. Don’t think about how much it will hurt when he breaks the chains holding you up. Don’t think of how embarrassing it will be when he has to carry you out of here.
Don’t think about the worry you’ll see in his eyes. Don’t think about the guilt you’ll hear in his voice. Don’t think about how he’ll blame himself for this happening to you. Don’t think about the horrible teas he’ll force you to drink.
Don’t think.
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