The darkness inside the room was so complete it felt like a physical thing. It was a heavy, smothering blanket with no edges, a blackness so thick you felt you could touch it. There was not a single shred of light, no thin line under a door, no soft glow from a digital clock. This was the kind of deep, endless dark you would find buried underground.
For a long time, the only sounds were the ones they made themselves, each one unnaturally loud in the silence. There was the ragged, shaky sound of breathing, the hitching gasp of someone trying not to cry, and the occasional muffled sob that escaped no matter how hard they tried to hold it back.
