Concrete Cube

"Take the knife and slit your throat." The voice over the intercom was cold and direct, just the tone almost compelled the man to do so. As the man picks up the knife he can feel the cold tempered steel against his fingers. He holds the knife up and can see his dark brown hair framing his pale sweaty face. "You have no reason to live. What is keeping you here?" The voice's tone does not change; every word moves the knife closer to his throat. "What about my future? Is there nothing there?" The mans words are quiet, choked out of his throat. He looks to the dull intercom speaker on the bare concrete wall for a response. Silence. The man starts sobbing, "What has happened to me? Why am I here? What has buried me this deep?" The mans hands are trembling so much that he drops the knife. The clang against the concrete floor is almost totally drowned out by the mans sobbing. He stumbles toward the wall and slumps down in a position only a lifeless limp body should be able to fall into. The sobbing slowly stops. "Take the knife and slit your throat." The voice cuts the silence like a rifle shot, startling the slumped form into a more rigid position. Slowly the man stands up and walks over to the stainless steal blade lying on the ground. "Is this what you want? Will this solve it all!" He picks up the knife and plunges it into his throat just below his Adams apple. Gurgling sounds fill the room as the man slowly drowns in his own blood. The man slowly drags himself over to the plain gray wall and starts pounding on it in desperation. He finally slumps down onto the floor never to be tormented.