Benny is done sewing Carmelina’s arm. He’s never sewn anything, but it’s not a bad job. The bleeding is stopped. Her eyes are open. And she is swallowing the foul-tasting tea that he’s pouring down her throat.
She pushes the tea away. To hold her chest. Not because of indigestion. But because she’s afraid that her heart might stop beating. She once told herself that a life without escape is a life not worth living.
And she’s been unable to escape Benny’s touch. Unable to use her mind to transcend an external world that she’d prefer not to know. Which is why she wants her heart to stop beating. And why she is perturbed that it seems to now beat more strongly than ever before. As if in defiance.
She wonders if she was wrong. She wonders if, in saving her life, Benny has shown that her life has some value. Which would be a mind-fuck. Because in her mind, life is nothing more than an unending series of torture sessions.
From which she escapes. Leaving behind a world that forces her out. Keeps her out. Doesn’t want her back. But pulls her back anyway. To force her out again. Which is a good reason to die. “Unless,” she wonders, “I am worth something?”
*****
He speaks softly, as if in answer to her question. “There are two ways to escape. The first is to transcend torture. To use the brute power of our minds to imagine a better world. This is all that we can do when torture is the only option.
“The second escape happens when we notice that torture is never the only option. We can escape torture by escaping the escape. By listening to our hearts instead of our minds.” He reaches for Carmelina. “Follow me!” he says.
She grabs his hand and stands. Doesn’t know where he wants to take her. Isn’t sure that it’s better than where she is now. But follows anyway. Not because she trusts. Not because she distrusts. But because she’s tired. Of torturing herself.
He leads her through her cell doors and into a maze-like underground passageway. As they round the first corner, she pulls on his arm. Asks him to let her think for a moment. “There’s no time to think,” he says. “Just put one foot in front of the other.”
She puts one foot in front of another. Until they emerge from the maze into a starry moonlight where a white horse awaits. Which they mount. And which takes them away. Through the night. Into a new escape.
