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墨書 Inktalez
"Dad—" The voice was unclear yet hoarse, as Song Zheng lay on the ground, straining to tilt her head back. The veins on her neck bulged, constricted by the nylon rope, and she had nearly bent herself backward like a shrimp. Even so, she could not hold onto her father or the light.
She was trapped in darkness. "Hah—hah—" She listened to her own gasping breaths and felt the pounding of her heart in her chest. "Calm down, there must be a way out. Yes, stay calm." She flexed and stretched her legs, relaxed and tensed her neck, adjusting her position slightly, estimating that she was directly under the roll-up door. Again she flexed and stretched, relaxed and tensed, flexed and stretched… She felt the skin on her neck scrape away, burning with pain, but that was inconsequential. She tried to ensure that the angle of her bent legs was wide enough to give her neck some room to move. Tilting her head sideways—if she were standing, it would be like tilting it awkwardly—she slammed it against the bottom of the roll-up door, trying to make as much noise as possible. But this action was too inefficient. She flexed and stretched again to turn herself sideways, using her forehead to bang repeatedly against the door. She exerted all her strength until dizziness set in, but still continued to knock her head against it. Her forehead must have swollen and broken open, or perhaps the skin had split open, hot liquid running down into her hair and pooling on the ground. She smelled blood; her waist and legs could no longer hold up…
Her neck arched back; the nylon rope pressed against the wound. With any movement, the rope would rub against the fresh flesh, causing sweat to pour down her face mixed with salt. It felt like brine, pulling at her skin as she trembled all over. There was no choice; her waist and legs needed to relax—at least move within a limited range—and then she could loosen up her shoulders after relaxing her hips.
At this moment, she wasn't panicking; she thought perhaps her father had calmed down or believed she had learned a lesson and would come downstairs to free her. If not, there were other residents; surely someone would come down from the whole building to retrieve something from storage. She knew little about this basement; it was dark and cold like a maze. The frequency of residents coming down could be inferred from the thickness of dust in the passageway.
It should be nearing dawn, right? She wasn't sure; she just hoped so because she was shivering from the cold now, and pain made her sweat continuously. Her nightgown was soaked through—sticky and chilly—a vicious cycle. Once daylight came and the sun rose, it would warm up a bit; having never spent a night in a basement before, she thought this way. She felt sleepy; lying on her side made her head touch the ground intermittently. It wouldn't be long before she'd wake up with a stiff neck, so she simply lay flat with her chin resting on the floor while keeping her head upright. This position wasn't comfortable either because gravity and joints would cause both legs to stretch involuntarily. When they stretched out, it hurt her neck; she'd wake up again as soon as that happened. Her chin couldn't take it anymore either; the back of her neck cracked from excessive twisting—it was unbearable everywhere; time dragged on painfully.
But there was some progress: sweat flowed into her eyes and dampened the tape on either side of her nose. Gritting through cramps, she used her tongue to push out whatever foreign object was in her mouth until it squeezed out through a gap above the tape. This also helped create an opening for air; half-freed from tape now, she gasped loudly against the bottom seam of the roll-up door, shouting into the cavity below, "Is anyone there—hello? Is anyone there? I'm trapped in storage! Can someone help me?" Her voice echoed in the corridor as if countless versions of herself needed saving.
She didn't know how long she had been shouting; it seemed she had lost track of time. Besides herself, she felt no changes around her; there was no response from outside regarding any changes in her situation. Only then did she feel a distinct sense of anxiety.
"Help—" she shouted repeatedly until her throat became hoarse and raw like countless needles tearing through it until no sound could come out at all. Her body belatedly registered thirst—the word "thirst" quickly reached her brain: "Thirsty… so thirsty…" The thirst almost surpassed physical pain—it expanded into an overwhelming desire: "I want water! Is there any water? Please give me some water, Dad! I promise I won't do anything wrong again…"
After enduring hundreds of difficult swallows, she fell into a state between waking and sleeping—a half-consciousness where part of her soul floated away while another part remained connected to her body. She could clearly sense how her organs functioned and how nerves transmitted signals; each pang of pain felt divided into threads that no longer repulsed but instead became something she craved—a sensation that proved she still existed. She knew she wasn't unconscious; she still had awareness—just not one under her control.
She dreamed a nightmare where she cut open her own heart and lungs, desperately sucking on her own blood: "Water! I need water…"
When she woke up, she finally saw clearly what lay before her: she had to save herself!
At twenty-one years old, bones had become quite hard; unlike when she was younger when hanging upside down on a horizontal bar or easily flipping over was effortless. Now inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter, she bent backward along her spine while rolling both shoulders back and lifting both legs higher and higher. The nylon rope had some hardness and toughness—it wouldn't fall like hemp rope once detached from an object. Even after being torn from flesh, it maintained a certain curve which allowed for just enough space around her neck now.
All that remained was for her to contract tightly enough to fit her chin into that gap while tilting back so that the nylon rope slid over her face—freeing herself from its grip! Her eyes focused intensely downward at that rope circle as she shrank down further into it—success was imminent! Suddenly one leg jerked out unexpectedly—the nylon rope tightened around her neck again causing pain that made her gasp sharply—but it didn’t matter; she'd try again! Another failure! Again! Still failed! One more time! Her eyes hurt unbearably—it felt like they might go blind—but anything was better than dying! Come on! Come on! Arms and legs cooperate with me! No jerking around! Slowly lower your chin into that loop—yes! It’s in!
No no no! Don’t get too excited! Tuck your chin forward so that it tightens at your philtrum position—success again! Don’t get cocky now Song Zheng! Tilt your head back hard—yes! As soon as that loop grazes your nose you’ll feel like Zhu Bajie (a character from Journey to the West)—smile Song Zheng! Be happy Song Zheng! Your nose has passed through—next comes your forehead smoothly gliding through!
Her head and neck regained complete freedom!!!
Next were hands and feet—the downside of having them tied together meant they formed a larger circumference with greater internal area allowing for more movement compared to before—it became much easier.
"You really can’t rely on others; self-rescue is rebirth," she murmured this newfound life wisdom while slowly moving every part of herself until all joints regained full flexibility.
At this moment—a loud thud echoed as something got kicked over—it must have been a freezer since she'd heard compressor vibrations coming from within earlier—a sound familiar when buying ice cream during summer months—if there’s a freezer does that mean there’s food or drink?
She stumbled upright feeling around for its lid then found its edge sliding down until reaching where it opened up—she couldn’t hold back anymore as she suddenly flung open its lid revealing bright light inside—a curled figure startled causing Song Zheng's back to slam against the wall as if trying to escape—the beating of heart raced wildly within.
Cautiously inching forward peering inside—it was indeed a person—a little closer now allowing herself gradual acceptance bit by bit until finally seeing clearly—the corpse inside appeared unmistakably familiar—it should be none other than her mother who had passed away twelve years ago.
Fear dissipated like a dream bubble bursting as Song Zheng leaned heavily against the freezer wall with arms propped up under its edge while raising eyebrows shaped like an eight: "Mom? How did you end up here?" Tilting slightly toward where Mom lay side-on examining every inch of that familiar face brought tears streaming down: "Mom… I miss you so much…"
"I swore I would survive just so I could give you peace," Song Zheng thought while noticing frost covering Mom's body inside—the white frost clung tightly around Mom's form causing Song Zheng to scoop some into mouth waiting for it to melt before swallowing down—that frost accompanied by presence of Mom helped endure hunger until someone finally appeared.
When someone closed that freezer lid pretending nothing happened while banging against roll-up door—a neighbor from upstairs responded using tools clanking loudly trying to pry open locks—but Song Zheng hadn’t told him everything instead lying about accidentally dropping down roll-up door since revenge for Mom’s death consumed thoughts—I must kill him!
"I’m ready for death row," but before then I must take one life—you’ve guessed who Tang Wenshan is—I need him punished otherwise this world feels too unfair.
"Are you alright?" The neighbor asked holding toolbox at corner hesitantly watching over with concern.
She waved dismissively smiling back saying: "I’m fine really! By the way Uncle Long, have you seen my dad?"
"He went down to practice military boxing at park—I came down with him."
"Oh okay thanks for letting me know—I’ll clean up here."
"Alright," Uncle Long replied turning away yet hesitated lingering momentarily offering pitying advice: "Girl you’re already in college now—you should move out for school why suffer at home? Once you graduate go wherever you want but don’t ever come back—your dad doesn’t deserve being called one!"
She opened mouth intending reply but only managed hoarse whisper: "Uh… thanks Uncle Long, I’ll think about it."
Once Uncle Long left wanting say goodbye to Mom inadvertently noticed rental notice taped onto roll-up door next door 2131 leaving phone number along with WeChat QR code illuminating possibilities ahead making everything clear!
Carefully tearing off notice folding neatly entering 2132 opening freezer saying: "Mom wait for me—I’ll get you outta here soon!"
Song Zheng stepped out from basement where fiery clouds reflected brightly within pupils revealing dirty nightgown worn thin with holes scattered across skin marred by scars—but at this moment life felt incredibly precious.
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