Open-eyed I stared into the nothingness that was somehow all there was. Blackness rolled over me like a never-ending wave. I was trapped inside a belly of black where tar oozed down the walls and slithered across the ground like a giant, black eel.

Darkness. Black. Too much black.

The Eagles’ witchy woman song played in my head. Over and over again the same tinny lyrics rotated. With every passing second, my body seemed to float away from my mind, and the only thing that stopped me believing it gone was the mattress under me. If not for that hard slab, I would have thought that I only existed in my head.

I fought to remember images of the woods and the fields, the greenness, the cows and flowers, that beautiful white horse, but black was a fierce enemy. A thief. A murderer. Like Mother. She was the reason I was here. She needed to …

‘Who’s there?’ The woman’s voice cut in. Shrill. Afraid.

‘Me. Polly,’ I said quickly, startled into a response.

‘Polly? Oh yes … I remember. I’m sorry. Your voice woke me.’

‘My voice?’ Had I been speaking? Saying my thoughts out loud?

‘You were talking really fast. Saying the word “black” a lot.’

I heard the mattress springs squeal as she shifted her weight. Felt dizzy with relief. She was awake. Together. We could get through this together.

‘I’m glad you’re awake,’ I said, tearful all of a sudden.

She laughed softly, but there was no humour in it. ‘I’m glad you’re still here. For a moment I thought I’d dreamt you.’

‘How long …’ I hesitated, frightened by what she might say. ‘How long have you been down here?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know? How can that be?’

‘Time slips away here. There’s no sense of morning and night. Minutes feels like hours. I sleep a lot, but I never feel rested.’

I swallowed a lump of mucus. It slithered reluctantly down my throat. ‘I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. What you’re still going through.’

She didn’t say anything, so I gave her time. I shifted my weight. Numbness had started to creep in.

‘How old are you, Polly?’

‘Thirteen.’

‘Shit.’

I jumped at the curse.

‘Sorry,’ she said.

‘It’s fine. Shit,’ I said, testing the word. It felt good somehow, ‘Shit, shit, shit!’

She laughed. This time her laugh sounded more real.

‘SHIT!’ she shouted.

‘SHIT!’ I shouted back.

We giggled. After a short while, we fell silent.

‘Will you hold my hand?’ I said.

‘Of course I will.’

Our fingers found each other’s and we held hands in the darkness, silent for a time.

‘I’ve never said a swear word before,’ I said.

‘I hadn’t when I was your age. I’ve said a lot since then though. Sometimes I scream and curse until my throat’s raw.’