CAN SOMEBODY HELP?

I still remember his screams.

His crying.

The sound of the knocks.

The sound of the rain.

Me, a 16-year-old girl, scared, looking at the door.

That door that separated us.

He was just a man. A normal person.

His nights were bad, but that one was different.

That night was true hell.

It had been two weeks since his album came out.

Scaled And Icy.

It was a beautiful album. But not the album we all needed to hear.

It had been weeks of tension, of forced exhaustion.

He wasn't even allowed to sleep.

Just write, write, write.

I heard him mumbling.

Mumbling how fed up he was with it all.

That day I heard him snoring.

''They've finally let him sleep...''  I thought.

Silly me.

I went to bed. Calm. Silence. Peace.

Not for long. About two hours later, a slammed door woke me up.

''Were you sleeping? ''  a deep voice called out.

I got out of bed, startled, barely understanding what was happening.

''No...''   Clancy spoke, his voice frightened.

And then I heard banging.

Then, screams.

His screams.

I moved toward the door, my heart hammering, wishing it was all a nightmare. But the sound was there, clear and dry and wrenching.

Knocks and more knocks.

"Clancy!"  I whispered, my voice thin. But he couldn't hear me, not then.

I heard him scream again, a scream that faded to a muffled gasp.

I tried to get closer, pressing my ear against the door, searching for the crack, any space, any way to reach him.

But the answer was a slam so loud it echoed off the walls of my cell.

Silence.

I don't know how much time passed, but at last I heard something else: sobbing.

"Clancy..." I whispered, begging for him to answer. "Are you... there?"

There was a long, drawn-out second. I felt the air stop in my lungs.

''My head hurts...''  he murmured, his voice broken, trembling, choked with tears.

The words fell heavily, dragged along by a pain that would never go away.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands shaking. I couldn't do anything. 

Nothing.

Clancy was strong, always had been, but they were determined to break him.

Again and again, they attacked him, manipulated him, destroyed him from the very core, as if his indomitable spirit was something they had to crush to continue their plans.

"I wish I could get you out of there, Clancy..."  I whispered, in a small voice I barely heard myself.

There was no answer.

Only a weak, final sigh, as if he too knew that freedom was just a fantasy we had once shared.

"Tomorrow they will get me out of here..."  his breath ragged.

"What?" Where are you going?

He took a moment to answer. His breathing was whistling.

"I'm giving a concert in a... submarine"  he replied. "It's a kind of party for the bishops..."

After that day, I never saw him again.