Zoey's pov (8 months later)
"Here you go," Pete says, shoving the fast food bag into my hands. He then slams the door closed. I sigh when I hear the heavy lock click into place.
I walk back over to my bed and open the Wendy's bag. Chicken nuggets and french fries as well as a water bottle. I waste no time before tearing into my dinner. I make myself slow down and make the food last longer. Afterall, this is all I was going to get until dinner tomorrow night.
Just two more days of this hell, I remind myself. I had a plan to break out. And I hope to God that it works.
For the past eight months, I've been trapped here in this tiny prison of a room. No windows and a door that locks from the outside. Only eating fast food dinners. It's been too long since I've had spaghetti and a soda. Or some candy.
I unscrew the water bottle lid and take a sip. It was warm, but I didn't care. It was water.
In two days, it would be Johnathan turn to give me my dinner. He was the nicest of the three. He was originally nicknamed 'Lefty'. 'Righty' is Pete and the driver is James. I hate them all.
Anyway, since Johnathan doesn't hate me, he'll actually walk into my room to give me my food if I don't go to the door to get it. Unlike the other two, who throw it at me. Assholes.
"Lights out, buttercup!" James barks, right outside my door. I shudder as the lights flick off, leaving me in complete blackness. I sigh and roll up the Wendy's bag. I put it underneath my bed along with my water bottle, then lay down on my bed. I close my eyes and desperately search for sleep, which doesn't come.
