I couldn’t tell how much time had passed since I had started descending. The cave still looked the same before me: the white floor and roof slowly leading me deeper and deeper, the sides stretching impossibly wide, like a grin. I had not been able to see the opening of the cave for a while.

My feet were burning from exhaustion. My back ached. It was no wonder: I had no room to stand straight. I was practically covered in dust, I could hardly remember what color my shoes had been. My eyes stinged, trying to produce tears to push out the sand from my eyes. Every step I took made the dust on the ground rise and form small clouds around my feet. They looked soft. I felt like giving up, laying down, letting the dust carry me deeper underground. All I wanted was to straighten my back.

It was impossible to turn back now that I had gotten this far. I had to find out where the cave led. Turning back would require strength that I wasn’t sure I still possessed.

I scraped my head on the roof. It wasn’t the first time, I didn’t care. I was slowly getting used to how low it was, not terrified of getting squeezed to death anymore. Not terrified of tripping and cutting my legs on the sharp rocks, falling headfirst into the dim light that seemed to shine from the cave, from the center of the earth. Not terrified of getting my mouth full of the white dust that coated the rocks, getting it in my lungs, choking on it. I wasn’t terrified. And I was going to keep walking.

It was getting hotter. I was sure of it. The light shining at the bottom of the cave was brighter now. Not a white light, like from the sun (that I missed, that I might never see again!) but a warm, almost red light. I think my scalp was bleeding, the blood dripping to the ground from my hair. Maybe the trail would help me find a way back up. My legs were shaking, all I wanted to do was sit down. Then get up again and start climbing back up, climbing until I get to breathe fresh air again. I had to turn back.

I kept walking, my back crooked and my feet trembling. It was better if I didn’t even try to stop and turn back. This way I could pretend it was my own decision, that I could still control my own feet. That I had other choices, that I didn’t have to keep descending until I found the source of that light. That whatever was down there would not be the last thing I ever see.

Illustration by Liisa Harju.