Experiment 21

4 ~ Dear Diary

I woke up.

I didn't want to. I wanted to sleep forever, but I didn't want to dream. Last night was a far too vivid montage of places and people I didn't want to see. My stomach was quite literally receding on its self, and my throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, scoured and then burned to nothing. In short, it really hurt to swallow now. Amazing how thirsty you can get in such a short amount of time.

And then my wrist. I remembered, someone had twisted it. The question was - was I ready to look?

I looked down, and the question was answered. No, I was not, and I proved that by throwing up whatever food I already had in there, and about a pint of bile. I looked again, and retched.

Bones. Splintered, and sticking out of my skin in every angle, blood clogged in the crevices. The fingers were almost blue; There was no blood getting to them, so they were going to get worse. Fast. I didn't hurt much now, but if I moved it...I'm pretty sure it would be agony.

I tried to move my wrist. I didn't get very far before I buried my face in the crook of my arm and bit down on the skin in an attempt not to wail in pain. It made my whole arm throb, and at the wrist it was like...I can't even describe It. It was like someone had taken my hand and sawed it off. And the wound was just so messy.

It was a safe bet that moving my wrist wasn't such a good idea.

The relentless face of my kidnapper gave me a sick feeling in my gut. If he could do this, he could do anything to me. This man was a criminal. A murderer, probably, and I'm sure he didn't have any limits. The only good thing, was that I was still near the window. I lifted myself up, leaving my hand dead and lifeless on the floor.

The sky was not the cheery blue it normally was, and the sun wasn’t hanging in the sky like a beacon of hope. Instead it was a doomsday grey, the slight pitter-patter of rain breaking the silence. I groaned. I couldn't even look at the sun.

My eyes felt like someone had poured straight acid on them. They burned every time I blinked. I couldn't resist licking my lips to try to keep them moist, but the attempt was wasted. I let out a choked sob, which caught in my throat when something odd was caught in my periphery.

It was very round, very green, and very edible looking. It looked like, almost like a-,

Oh sweet Jesus…

I flung my leg out and hooked my foot around the round, green miracle that shone like a star against the grey background. I picked it up with my good hand, not even slightly embarrassed when a string of drool dripped involuntarily from my wide mouth. Besides the bite mark, and a rusty nail with a piece of paper attached, it seemed fine to eat.

I hastily pulled off the note and read the messy looped writing.

Number 21,

Enjoy this food while you can honey. Don’t know if I’ll bother feeding you again this week. Or at all for that matter.

Enjoy ~ Tom x

I crumpled up the letter of doom in one swift movement - who cares. I think I knew what pain was now. What more could the black-eyed kidnapper do to me?

I bit into the green apple, relishing its sour taste and catching the bead of juice that dripped down my chin. I sucked out all the flavour first and ate the apple afterwards. When it was gone, I licked my fingers. My stomach groaned loudly, wanting more. I mourned the loss of the apple, but willed myself to be satisfied with what I had.

I slumped back against the wet wall, arms like jello. My wrist was throbbing beside me; I couldn't ignore it. I wish they had sent me more than an apple. My stomach was still growling, and there was still a deep pit in it. Actually, the thirst and the hunger was probably worse now that I'd had a small taste of food. A bit like a teaser. I was tired. I was scared.

And there was water, all around me.

It looks so unhygienic, I thought to myself. Specks of dirt floated in the tiny puddles like little boats, only they were probably full of disease. I eyed the sludgy, brown, puddles that situated themselves all around me. I leaned forward, and sniffed.

I didn't smell good.

Gently pulled my arm into a sort of comfortable position, but not before the pain started shooting up my arm again. I bit my lips so hard the skin broke. I leaned to the side, so I could reach the puddle with my tongue. I inched it closer towards the foul smelling 'water'. As soon as tongue and water made contact, I recoiled. I scraped my tongue wildly. It tasted like sewage mixed with liquid metal. Its what I would imagine eating trash to be like if it was liquidised and turned into a smoothie.

But I was really thirsty, so what did I do? - I tried again.

I clamped my eyes shut and pictured myself in my kitchen. the fridge humming and the soft heating of the floor. I imagined slurping the water off the floor in big, deep gulps. The water didn't taste half as bad, surprisingly. The grossness of it all, didn't really come until later.

I could taste the dirt drying out on my tongue. Tears streamed silently, down my cheeks and into the cracks on my lips. I sniffled, and for the first time started feeling sorry for myself. Look at me. I'm alone, my wrist shattered into splinters, drinking off the floor like a desperate low life. There's no hope. Absolutely no hope.

I'm going to die here.

The 'D' word had never really scared me as much as it did now. And to die in these environments, with no-one truly knowing where I disappeared too, was too much. To my parents it would be like I had fallen off the face of the earth. They would never know where there little girl had gone, and that hurt.

I needed to write something to show I was here.

My eyes trained on the folded piece of paper about half a metre away from me. I stretched my leg out - painfully, due to the beating last night - and dragged it towards me. Snatching it up in my hand, I reached for the pen. My hands traced two words at the top of the page, and in an instant, I knew what I would do. I mustered up the last ounce of strength inside me to write those two words.

Day four...