Page 14 of The Chamber
“Very well,” Richard agreed, gesturing for Kenneth to follow him down a corridor. “Your journey starts now.”
Kenneth couldn’t shake the feeling that hidden eyes watched them as they walked—unseen spies scrutinizing his every move. He tried to focus on the path ahead, but the disorienting landscape of the Chamber seemed to shift and change with each step he took.
“Is this normal?” he asked, trying to stop his voice from trembling.
“Normal is a relative term here,” Richard replied. He reached out and gripped Kenneth’s shoulder. The squeeze was gentler than Kenneth expected.
“I’ve designed everything here to confront you with your deepest anxieties—to force you to face them head-on. It’s an essential part of the healing process.”
Kenneth’s heart clenched. He steeled himself against the impending horror. “I’m ready,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed his own words.
“Good because there’s no turning back now.” Richard pulled his hand back and touched a fingertip to his chin.
A chilling realization washed over Kenneth, sending a shudder down his spine. He’d willingly entered the lion’s den, entrusting his fate to Richard’s megalomania. There would be no easy escape from the trials that awaited him.
“Let the games begin,” Kenneth whispered.
A metallic taste assaulted Kenneth’s senses as he stumbled deeper down the hallway.
“Easy now,” Richard cooed mockingly, watching him struggle. “You wouldn’t want to make it too easy for us.”
Kenneth glared back at him, gritting his teeth. He knew fighting back was futile, but something deep within him refused total submission.
“Tell me, Kenneth,” Richard demanded, circling him again, “how does it feel knowing you’re trapped—like a rat in a maze? That the only way out is through enduring our little—tests?”
“Like I’ve been here before,” Kenneth growled. Iraq imprisoned him in a never-ending cycle of violence and dread. He forced himself to breathe deeply. “I’ll make it through this, just like I made it through that.”
“Ah, yes,” Richard sneered, “the war hero. The mighty survivor.” He stepped up close, and Kenneth stared at the pinched face while Richard exhaled and then smiled.
“But you didn’t come out whole, did you?” Richard taunted. “They shipped you back in pieces—a whole body in a shattered mind.”
“Shut up,” Kenneth whispered, feeling sharp edges of panic threatening the clarity of his thoughts.
“It’s a shame—such a handsome man with such a fragile hold on reality.”
“Enough,” one of Richard’s accomplices interrupted, stepping forward. “We have work to do. Bring him to the next room.”
As they ushered Kenneth through a series of narrow passageways, disorienting lights flickered above, casting twisted shadows on the walls. The scent of damp earth mingled with something acrid, making him gag involuntarily.
“Welcome to the depths of your own psyche, Kenneth,” Richard announced, gesturing grandly at the new room. “Here, you’ll find the specific things that have haunted you for so long.”
Kenneth scanned the space, unease, and curiosity warring within him. The walls seemed to close in.
“Try to remember, Kenneth,” Richard whispered, his voice unnervingly gentle. “This is all for your own good. You wanted to heal, didn’t you? I want you to heal, too.”
“Is this necessary?” Kenneth asked, his voice barely audible as he stared into the abyss before him.
“Only if you want to be free,” Richard replied, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that left Kenneth feeling more cornered than ever. “You can’t run, and you can’t hide. If you do, I will break you—forever.”
“Begin,” Richard commanded, his voice cold and unforgiving. The first trial commenced, thrusting Kenneth into the fray, his senses assaulted by screams and gunfire. His pulse quickened.
His surroundings seemed to shift and morph—the harsh desert terrain of Iraq replaced the sterile confines of the Chamber’s room. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he struggled to distinguish between dreams and reality.
Was it just another cruel illusion? Or were the terrifying visions a part of the healing Richard promised?
“Is this what I must endure?” Kenneth muttered, his heart pounding in his chest as he remembered the years spent in therapy, trying to escape the relentless grip of PTSD. “How can this possibly help me?”
Richard’s voice pierced the chaos. His message remained the same. “Only by facing your fears will you ever truly conquer them.”