Side Split

Power

As usual, the cell is cold and water drips through the crack in the ceiling at a consistent rate. My hands are held together with a clasp as they have been for years but this has only helped me realise that I am just a toy to the President. A piece in an unsolved puzzle. All of this is due to the world which I yearn to visit again. It's impossible to open a portal with the restriction the clasp puts on my hands and I have no clue how much of this tiny room it would take up. I'm convinced he wants me to break down at some point but I'm remaining just above that point of mental insanity. I may be slowly falling apart with madness due to the constant silence which relentlessly fights my body, throwing punches at me to remind me where I am. I'm convinced that one day I'll die here and no one will know, or care, about it.

It's been months since I've spoken to anyone. I'm the only company around here as I have no clue if there are any guards outside the door. I've been able to have some riveting conversations with the wall about how I stand no chance of escaping and how everything is the President's fault. It took a while for me to come to that conclusion because I blamed myself initially for getting myself locked up but I know it wasn't my fault for being a naïve thirteen-year-old.

All I did was open a small portal into another world and then enter, not thinking about the consequences. When he asked me to open it up again, I refused because I knew what he planned on doing with it. He planned on using me as an asset so he could control the world which he has named the Mystra. Without me, he can't access it and he doesn't take no for an answer without putting up a fight. So he decided to place me in this cell with a small amount of light sneaking through a slit on the wall opposite to where the metal door stands bolted shut. The rest of the room is filled with cold, grey stone walls which matches the grey ceiling and floor. I've denied him his only chance of reaching the Mystra and he is making me pay.

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The wind is howling outside, bringing in a cold breeze that sends shivers across my body. Food is a once-a-day occasion which I don't care about much now. My body is shrivelling up while everyone else can eat whatever they want, not knowing about the things that are happening behind the closed doors of the President's house. If I wanted to, I could starve to death in here and no one would know for weeks. The only thing stopping me from starving is my fear of death, especially a painful one. I'd rather it was just ended in a swift motion than know I was actively killing myself. If I starved in here, I wouldn't feel satisfaction because it would mean I was giving in to him. My existence is the only entertainment I can provide myself at the moment because every day I survive is another day I'm spiting him for what he has done to me.

The President runs on control, and control is something no one should have full access to, a belief I've held since the day I was put in here. No one questions him, they just go along with whatever he says. It's a system my parents worked in with no way of getting out despite hating every day they went to work with him. I never believed that the President could be nearly as bad as they said he was; the horrific things they told me about him seemed impossible for a human to be able to achieve without their morals stopping them. When I was locked in here, I understood what they meant about his controlling regime. There is no escape, he drags you in until you are another cog in the mechanism that runs the city he has moulded into his own without regard for those who reside here. He's done this for years which has allowed him to form a legion of people who want to help him achieve his ultimate goal: domination. Now he feels that he has achieved that in this city, he wants to advance onto the realm beyond the portal.

More uneventful days tick by with the rain getting heavier every hour. To exacerbate the problems I face here, the meagre food supply has been stopped. No one has come to the hatch at the bottom of my solid metal door to slide a small plate under containing a concoction of food which they must have thrown together in less than a minute. Luckily, the water is still coming through a small pipe at the top of my room though which is positive, I suppose. The bell will ring, signalling for me to come under the pipe as it lets out a trickle of icy water. It's not much but it is keeping me alive while my body withers away. My bones are becoming more prominent and my mind is starting to give in to the madness so much so that I'm beginning to think about the end. I must not be needed anymore in the games he plays. He may have found his own way into the Mystra which makes my existence pointless. Killing me off is his new plan. He can do whatever they want to me, and no one will care. I couldn't care much at the moment either. Death isn't a terrible option, I just wish it wasn't being done by starvation.