The mistake I made on the forty-fourth day was not caused by ignorance.<\/p>\n
That is the part I have had the hardest time forgiving.<\/p>\n
I knew what I was supposed to do.<\/p>\n
My father had taught me.<\/p>\n
I had followed his instructions for weeks.<\/p>\n
But I was frightened of running out of time.<\/p>\n
And fear made me behave as if the rules could be changed simply because I needed them to be.<\/p>\n
After moving around the rock, I had returned to the direction of the well.<\/p>\n
The soil ahead looked manageable.<\/p>\n
The lantern burned steadily.<\/p>\n
The wooden supports behind me remained firm.<\/p>\n
For the first time in days, I could make progress without turning my body around an obstruction.<\/p>\n
I should have been satisfied.<\/p>\n
Instead, I began thinking about everything the detour had cost me.<\/p>\n
Nine days.<\/p>\n
I repeated that number whenever I looked at my marks.<\/p>\n
Nine mornings.<\/p>\n
Nine evenings.<\/p>\n
Nine days closer to winter.<\/p>\n
I could not stop calculating how far I might have advanced if the rock had not appeared.<\/p>\n
I knew those calculations were useless.<\/p>\n
The rock had been there whether I wanted it or not.<\/p>\n
But I kept making them.<\/p>\n
I began rising earlier.<\/p>\n
I ate quickly.<\/p>\n
I went underground before the morning light had fully reached the kitchen window.<\/p>\n
Sometimes I continued digging until my hands were too tired to hold the shovel comfortably.<\/p>\n
I told myself I was making up lost time.<\/p>\n
At first, I still checked every support as carefully as before.<\/p>\n
Then I began looking at the timber waiting beside the kitchen opening and thinking about how long fitting it would take.<\/p>\n
I could remove more earth in that time.<\/p>\n
I could advance another small distance.<\/p>\n
I could fit the next support afterward.<\/p>\n
That was how the mistake began.<\/p>\n
Not with one great act of foolishness.<\/p>\n
With a series of small excuses.<\/p>\n
I had seen firm ground ahead.<\/p>\n
I had worked through similar soil before.<\/p>\n
I began trusting the appearance of the earth more than the method my father had taught me.<\/p>\n
On the morning of the forty-fourth day, I crawled to the end of the passage carrying the shovel and lantern.<\/p>\n
The last properly fitted support stood behind me.<\/p>\n
There was room to advance.<\/p>\n
I tested the soil.<\/p>\n
It held well enough for the first few cuts.<\/p>\n
I removed one bucket.<\/p>\n
Then another.<\/p>\n
The roof stayed in place.<\/p>\n
I told myself I could continue a little farther before setting the next wooden frame.<\/p>\n
There was nothing dramatic about the decision.<\/p>\n
I simply kept digging.<\/p>\n
That was what made it so dangerous.<\/p>\n
I had grown accustomed to the tunnel.<\/p>\n
The narrow walls no longer frightened me as they once had.<\/p>\n
I knew how to move inside it.<\/p>\n
I knew where to place the lantern.<\/p>\n
I knew how to draw a loaded bucket backward without spilling too much soil.<\/p>\n
I had begun feeling at home underground.<\/p>\n
That familiarity made me careless.<\/p>\n
I should have remembered that the earth was not more trustworthy because I had spent weeks beside it.<\/p>\n
But I was thinking about the well.<\/p>\n
I imagined touching its stones.<\/p>\n
I imagined drawing water from beneath the kitchen.<\/p>\n
I imagined the first snowfall arriving after I had already finished.<\/p>\n
The thought made me work faster.<\/p>\n
I dug into the face of the passage.<\/p>\n
The shovel entered the soil more easily than expected.<\/p>\n
I removed another load.<\/p>\n
Then I heard a small sound overhead.<\/p>\n
A crack.<\/p>\n
I stopped.<\/p>\n
For one moment, everything was quiet.<\/p>\n
The lantern flame moved slightly.<\/p>\n
I looked at the roof.<\/p>\n
I could see a narrow line where the soil had separated.<\/p>\n
My father had taught me what such a sound might mean.<\/p>\n
I knew I should leave immediately.<\/p>\n
But there was a bucket of earth beside me.<\/p>\n
And the next support was not far behind.<\/p>\n
I thought I might have time to pull the bucket away.<\/p>\n
I reached for it.<\/p>\n
Then another sound came from above.<\/p>\n
Louder.<\/p>\n
I dropped the handle.<\/p>\n
I moved backward toward the last support.<\/p>\n
The roof came down.<\/p>\n
There was no time to understand what was happening.<\/p>\n
Earth struck my shoulder.<\/p>\n
Something hit the lantern.<\/p>\n
The light disappeared.<\/p>\n
Soil fell across my legs.<\/p>\n
I tried to move.<\/p>\n
I could not.<\/p>\n
For several seconds, I heard only the sound of loose earth settling around me.<\/p>\n
Then silence.<\/p>\n
Complete darkness.<\/p>\n
I remember holding my breath.<\/p>\n
Not because I meant to.<\/p>\n
Because I was afraid that breathing might make something else fall.<\/p>\n
My heart was beating so hard that I could feel it in my throat.<\/p>\n
I tried moving one foot.<\/p>\n
It would not move.<\/p>\n
I tried the other.<\/p>\n
Both legs were trapped.<\/p>\n
I reached down.<\/p>\n
There was earth packed around my knees and lower legs.<\/p>\n
I could still move my arms.<\/p>\n
That was something.<\/p>\n
I forced myself to notice it.<\/p>\n
My hands were free.<\/p>\n
My chest was not pinned.<\/p>\n
I could breathe.<\/p>\n
I was alive.<\/p>\n
I repeated those facts silently because everything else frightened me.<\/p>\n
I wanted to call for my father.<\/p>\n
For one terrible moment, I almost did.<\/p>\n
Then I remembered there was nobody inside the house.<\/p>\n
Nobody waiting by the kitchen opening.<\/p>\n
Nobody who would hear me from the village.<\/p>\n
I was beneath the ground.<\/p>\n
Alone.<\/p>\n
I tried pulling my legs again.<\/p>\n
The soil held them.<\/p>\n
I felt pain in one knee.<\/p>\n
I stopped.<\/p>\n
Panic made me want to fight everything at once.<\/p>\n
I wanted to kick.<\/p>\n
I wanted to throw the soil away.<\/p>\n
I wanted to crawl toward the kitchen.<\/p>\n
But I knew uncontrolled movement might loosen more earth.<\/p>\n
I forced my hands to work slowly.<\/p>\n
I began clearing soil from around one leg.<\/p>\n
There was very little room.<\/p>\n
Every handful had to be moved somewhere.<\/p>\n
I pushed it away from my body as carefully as I could.<\/p>\n
Some of it fell back.<\/p>\n
I tried again.<\/p>\n
The darkness made everything harder.<\/p>\n
Without the lantern, I could not judge how much earth remained above me.<\/p>\n
I could only feel it.<\/p>\n
I worked by touch.<\/p>\n
My fingers found small stones.<\/p>\n
I pulled them loose.<\/p>\n
I pushed soil aside.<\/p>\n
I tested my leg.<\/p>\n
Still trapped.<\/p>\n
My breathing became fast.<\/p>\n
I stopped and tried to slow it.<\/p>\n
I remembered the day the lantern flame had weakened.<\/p>\n
I had learned how dangerous poor air could become.<\/p>\n
Now I was trapped in a passage where the roof had fallen.<\/p>\n
I did not know whether the ventilation would remain useful.<\/p>\n
The thought frightened me more than the weight across my legs.<\/p>\n
I kept clearing earth.<\/p>\n
Minutes passed.<\/p>\n
I could not measure them.<\/p>\n
There was no light.<\/p>\n
No movement beyond my hands.<\/p>\n
I began to lose track of how long I had been there.<\/p>\n
At one point, I started imagining the kitchen above me.<\/p>\n
The table.<\/p>\n
The bread.<\/p>\n
The stone opening in the floor.<\/p>\n
I had been sitting there that morning.<\/p>\n
I had been thinking about breakfast.<\/p>\n
Now I wondered whether I would ever see the room again.<\/p>\n
I thought about my father against the fence.<\/p>\n
Eleven paces from safety.<\/p>\n
He had been close to home.<\/p>\n
I was even closer in one sense.<\/p>\n
The kitchen was behind me.<\/p>\n
The path back existed.<\/p>\n
But I could not reach it.<\/p>\n
I had built a passage to avoid dying outside.<\/p>\n
And now I might die beneath the house.<\/p>\n
The thought made me feel sick.<\/p>\n
I wanted to blame the rock.<\/p>\n
The lost days.<\/p>\n
Don Baltazar.<\/p>\n
The people who laughed.<\/p>\n
But none of them had told me to remove earth without proper support.<\/p>\n
That had been my choice.<\/p>\n
I knew better.<\/p>\n
I had done it anyway.<\/p>\n
I began clearing the soil again.<\/p>\n
My hands grew numb.<\/p>\n
Dirt filled the spaces beneath my fingernails.<\/p>\n
Small stones scraped my fingers.<\/p>\n
I found the edge of one knee.<\/p>\n
Then part of my lower leg.<\/p>\n
I tried shifting my weight.<\/p>\n
A little soil moved.<\/p>\n
I stopped immediately.<\/p>\n
I waited to hear whether anything else would fall.<\/p>\n
Nothing did.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
I could not free both legs at once.<\/p>\n
I focused on one.<\/p>\n
I pushed soil away from my ankle.<\/p>\n
Then I pulled gently.<\/p>\n
It moved a little.<\/p>\n
I nearly cried with relief.<\/p>\n
But the other leg remained buried.<\/p>\n
I kept working.<\/p>\n
At some point, I realized I was no longer thinking about winter.<\/p>\n
Or the well.<\/p>\n
Or the days I had lost.<\/p>\n
There was only the next handful of earth.<\/p>\n
The next movement.<\/p>\n
The next breath.<\/p>\n
All the things that had seemed urgent that morning had become meaningless.<\/p>\n
I wanted to live long enough to crawl back into my kitchen.<\/p>\n
That was all.<\/p>\n
More than an hour passed before I managed to free the first leg completely.<\/p>\n
I did not know the exact time.<\/p>\n
I only knew I had been struggling for what felt like forever.<\/p>\n
The second leg took more effort.<\/p>\n
The soil had settled tightly around it.<\/p>\n
I had to clear enough room to bend my knee.<\/p>\n
When I finally pulled it loose, pain ran through both legs.<\/p>\n
I lay still.<\/p>\n
I was afraid to move.<\/p>\n
Then I reached behind me.<\/p>\n
My hand found the side of the passage.<\/p>\n
I turned carefully.<\/p>\n
The tunnel toward the kitchen remained open.<\/p>\n
I could feel the wooden support behind me.<\/p>\n
I had stopped moving backward only a short distance before reaching it.<\/p>\n
That realization hurt.<\/p>\n
If I had left when I heard the first crack, I might have been safe.<\/p>\n
If I had fitted the support before advancing, the roof might not have fallen.<\/p>\n
I did not know every detail of what had happened above me.<\/p>\n
But I knew enough.<\/p>\n
I crawled toward the kitchen.<\/p>\n
My legs shook.<\/p>\n
The passage seemed narrower than ever.<\/p>\n
I kept one hand against the wall.<\/p>\n
I was afraid that if I stopped moving, I would lose the courage to continue.<\/p>\n
Eventually, I reached the opening.<\/p>\n
There was daylight above.<\/p>\n
I had never been so grateful to see an ordinary patch of kitchen floor.<\/p>\n
I pulled myself up.<\/p>\n
Then I collapsed beside the opening.<\/p>\n
For a long time, I could not stand.<\/p>\n
I lay with my cheek against the cold stone.<\/p>\n
My clothes were covered with soil.<\/p>\n
My knees hurt.<\/p>\n
My hands were torn.<\/p>\n
I was breathing fresh air.<\/p>\n
I was alive.<\/p>\n
That should have been enough.<\/p>\n
But after the first relief passed, I began shaking.<\/p>\n
I could not stop.<\/p>\n
I looked down into the passage.<\/p>\n
The darkness frightened me.<\/p>\n
Not because it was unfamiliar.<\/p>\n
Because I now knew exactly what could happen inside it.<\/p>\n
I had built most of that tunnel with my own hands.<\/p>\n
I had trusted those supports.<\/p>\n
Then I had ignored the need for another one.<\/p>\n
The result lay underground, covering the place where I had been kneeling.<\/p>\n
I sat up slowly.<\/p>\n
The kitchen looked unchanged.<\/p>\n
The table stood where I had moved it.<\/p>\n
My tools remained beside the opening.<\/p>\n
The window showed the same yard.<\/p>\n
Outside, the well waited.<\/p>\n
Everything ordinary was still there.<\/p>\n
Only I had changed.<\/p>\n
I washed my hands with difficulty.<\/p>\n
The water stung the cuts.<\/p>\n
I tried to stand.<\/p>\n
My legs trembled.<\/p>\n
I sat down again.<\/p>\n
That evening, I did not return underground.<\/p>\n
I did not even approach the opening.<\/p>\n
I moved the tools away from its edge.<\/p>\n
Then I sat near the hearth with a blanket around my shoulders.<\/p>\n
I was cold despite the fire.<\/p>\n
I kept remembering the crack overhead.<\/p>\n
The sudden darkness.<\/p>\n
The soil pressing against my legs.<\/p>\n
Whenever the house made a small noise, I turned toward the floor.<\/p>\n
I knew that was not reasonable.<\/p>\n
But I could not help it.<\/p>\n
The next morning, I woke with aching muscles.<\/p>\n
There were bruises on my legs.<\/p>\n
My hands were swollen.<\/p>\n
I looked at the tunnel.<\/p>\n
Then I looked away.<\/p>\n
I told myself I would work again after breakfast.<\/p>\n
Breakfast came.<\/p>\n
I did not move.<\/p>\n
I tried sorting tools instead.<\/p>\n
I arranged the wooden supports.<\/p>\n
I checked the rope.<\/p>\n
I swept soil from the kitchen floor.<\/p>\n
Anything except going down.<\/p>\n
At midday, I stood beside the opening.<\/p>\n
I put one foot near the edge.<\/p>\n
Then I remembered the roof falling.<\/p>\n
I stepped back.<\/p>\n
I was ashamed.<\/p>\n
I had endured weeks of hard work.<\/p>\n
I had faced ridicule.<\/p>\n
I had learned to solve problems underground.<\/p>\n
Now I could barely bring myself to climb into the passage I had made.<\/p>\n
I told myself that fear was sensible after what had happened.<\/p>\n
But another part of me whispered that Don Baltazar had been right.<\/p>\n
Perhaps I was not capable of finishing.<\/p>\n
Perhaps my father had taught me the skills, but not enough judgment.<\/p>\n
Perhaps a girl alone should not attempt such dangerous work.<\/p>\n
I hated thinking those things.<\/p>\n
I hated that I was beginning to use the same words other people had used against me.<\/p>\n
The second day passed much like the first.<\/p>\n
I checked my injuries.<\/p>\n
I tended the fire.<\/p>\n
I ate carefully.<\/p>\n
I went outside to the well because the house still needed water.<\/p>\n
Every step across the yard reminded me why I had begun.<\/p>\n
But the memory was no longer enough to send me underground.<\/p>\n
I stood beside the fence for a while.<\/p>\n
I looked at the place where my father had fallen.<\/p>\n
Then I looked back toward the house.<\/p>\n
For the first time, I understood that courage was not simply continuing.<\/p>\n
Sometimes it meant admitting how badly you had frightened yourself.<\/p>\n
I had nearly died because I tried to save time.<\/p>\n
If I returned to the tunnel, I could not return as the same impatient person.<\/p>\n
I would need to rebuild the damaged section.<\/p>\n
I would need stronger supports.<\/p>\n
I would need to accept that the work might take longer than I wanted.<\/p>\n
And I would need to stop pretending I could do everything without help.<\/p>\n
That final thought was the hardest.<\/p>\n
My father had always been the person who helped me.<\/p>\n
Since his death, I had treated asking anyone else as something close to surrender.<\/p>\n
I had wanted to prove I could manage alone.<\/p>\n
Now I was beginning to see how dangerous that pride had become.<\/p>\n
On the evening of the second day, I sat at the kitchen table.<\/p>\n
The opening in the floor remained dark.<\/p>\n
I had not touched the shovel.<\/p>\n
There was a knock at the door.<\/p>\n
I thought it might be Jacinta.<\/p>\n
I stood carefully and went to answer.<\/p>\n
But when I opened it, Don Baltazar was standing outside.<\/p>\n
He looked past me toward the kitchen.<\/p>\n
Then he looked at my bruised hands.<\/p>\n
His expression told me he had already heard something.<\/p>\n
I had not told the village about the collapse.<\/p>\n
But the mound of earth had stopped growing.<\/p>\n
I had not been seen working.<\/p>\n
And Don Baltazar had always been watching for evidence that my plan would fail.<\/p>\n
He asked whether he could come inside.<\/p>\n
I did not want him there.<\/p>\n
I was too tired to argue.<\/p>\n
So I stepped aside.<\/p>\n
He entered and looked toward the open floor.<\/p>\n
For a moment, neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
Then he put his hand inside his coat.<\/p>\n
I knew what he was reaching for.<\/p>\n
The same cloth bag.<\/p>\n
The same offer.<\/p>\n
Only this time, I was sitting in a kitchen with an unfinished tunnel and two days of fear behind me.<\/p>\n
And he knew it.<\/p>\n
The mistake I made on the forty-fourth day was not caused by ignorance. That is the part I have had the hardest time forgiving. I knew what I was supposed … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":12056,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12062","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama-sory"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12062","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12062"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12062\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12082,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12062\/revisions\/12082"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/12056"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12062"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=12062"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastestdrama.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=12062"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}