Did someone go feed him?
It’s only a matter of time before someone finds me.
Right?
The lights cut off again, pitching me into darkness. I hate the dark; I always slept with my TV on just so I’d have some light and not feel alone.
Now I’m alone with no sound, no light, no blankets to hide under, nothing. I’ve never felt so naked and exposed before. Fuck, I wish Icould just sleep so I’m not stuck in the blackness.
I swear I can feel something crawling over me. I have seen no bugs so far, but that doesn’t mean anything. My fingers dig into my skin as I claw at my arms to stop the feeling.
I need some way to keep track of time, but all I have is myself. I begin counting to see how long before the lights come back on.
I hum tunelessly to distract myself and I keep picking at my nails like it’s a game. Occasionally, I’ll stop to scratch my arms when the feeling of bugs comes back. I know there aren’t any but I can’t stop the feeling of the multi legged creatures skittering over my skin.
The lights keep flickering on and off. One time I was in the dark for 4,422 seconds. The numbers keep me busy, and it’s another game.
Everything is a game here.
Reality doesn’t exist anymore.
I have 2 sandwiches, an apple, 4 bottles of water and a handful of trail mix left. I spin onmy heel and head back; I’ve made a rut in the dirt from my pacing.
One nail is loose and hanging on by a small piece of gel. I grab it firmly and give it a tiny tug, pulling the fake one off. My real nail underneath it needs to be filed. 7 nails left, just 7 nails before I won’t have anything left from my old life.
At this point, I won’t even have my sanity.
I’ve been using the bucket as another way to track time. It’s almost full and I don’t know what I’ll do when it is. I hate the bucket, but it’s better than pissing on my cot or the dirt.
I haven’t even been able to sleep much. Between the lights turning on and off, mixed with the loud beeping he’ll play from the camera’s speaker, I don’t get more than an hour.
Or is it longer?
Maybe minutes?
I even count in my dreams.
My mind has been racing every second I’m awake. It’s been a while since I pounded on the wall. My throat is still sore from screaming, and my eyes are puffy.
He’s not coming.
I’m going to die here.
All alone.
No one knows where I am.
Shut up!
Count.
1 Mississippi.
2 Mississippi.
3 Mississippi.
I begin my count again instead of humming, doing 6 more laps in my rut before going to my cot. My eyes focus on another loose nail, and I use my thumb to wiggle it up and down. The crawling comes back, so I stop that and dig my nails into my thighs.
