34 - The Imprisonment

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His wrists were a gnawed red from the constant digging of the cuffs. His ankles fared no better, the skin just as raw from the ropes now attached, to stop the constant kicking. Long dried tears crusted in his face. His eyes stared emotionlessly through his glasses, constantly staring at the ceiling.

~~ July 13, 2019 ~~
~ Greenville ~
~~
~

How long had he been here. How long had he simply stared up above at this ceiling? How long had he reminisced about the good days, before everything went to hell? How much longer was he going to have to live?

She kept him well fed. She'd cut his hair when it got longer, keeping him well kept as well. She'd clip his toenails and fingernails, all while leaving him chained to this bed. He hasn't moved a muscle in a while. It had felt like years.

He could feel parts of himself hurting simply from doing nothing. The skin on his heels, lower back, and shoulder, all ached with a dull pain from simply laying down.

He could feel himself become weaker every day. He could feel himself lose more of himself every day. How long would it be until he gave in? How long until he would become Mei's slave?

Even once he did, it wouldn't help. She was locking him up, keeping him inside this cell of a room to protect him. Forever. She did it all out of "pure" love and desire to keep him safe.

Whether he reciprocated or not didn't really matter.

He memorized every inch of the room. He even carved his own words into them with his mind. Over there in the corner was paragraph one of his essay, The Day Hell Arrived.

On the lower side of the left wall was an idea for a story he had been writing, about a Princess breaking free of a tower.

He knew it wasn't real, and yet he could still see every word. Maybe he was going insane.

The clock ticked and tocked. Well, if there was a clock. Instead there was just silence. The window was covered up. A singular lamp on a stool in the corner was all that illuminated the room. The light up above was broken.

He wasn't sure why.

He continued to sit in complete silence. The only sounds which ever floated through here were the sounds of small creaks of wood. Unless she came back. Then it felt like his ears finally worked again.

He was tired. Yet he couldn't fall asleep. Maybe it was those sores on his back. Maybe it was his ankles and wrists. Maybe it was just being stuck with himself in silence. The scariest, and most painful, of the three.

When being alone with yourself in silence for a long time you can really figure things out about yourself. Without all the busy noise of the world...all you had was yourself.

And your thoughts.

A scary, scary thing. But eye-opening in a sense.

He had discovered he was going crazy. For ex-

He had some jokes. Ones he made up in his captivity. Like, what did one wood plank say to other?













Nothing! Exactly!

Oh, how the imaginary person in his mind was always so good at guessing the answers to his jokes. So good it was almost like they were cheating.

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