Prisoner
1 loneliness
December 15, 2017
FEMA: Federal Emergency Management Agency
Day 704 in this cell. I've become quite accustomed to living in such a dark confinement now, that I guess it isn't so bad. Except for the fact that it's freezing cold and the drafty room doesn't help much either.
The things I miss most about home are my family and friends. I think about escaping back to them everyday.
I sometimes sing songs that my mum taught me, and people from cells near me occasionally sing with me. Our voices harmonize together in one symphony of loneliness in the middle of the darkest nights.
I just hope I escape soon. Two years alone is beginning to take its toll on me.
I sighed, closing my journal and slowly standing up from the cold concrete floor. The small stream of light coming from under the door was the only source I had to write with.
I trudged over to my small bed, tucking my worn leather bound journal beneath it. Flopping onto my uncomfortable bed, I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them for warmth. They didn't allow us blankets or pillows; yet another luxury we were deprived of.
Tonight, I didn't feel like singing. I just wanted to drown in my loneliness and tears and just . . . die. Waste away and die.
I missed my family, and my life. I needed someone.
I might have been crazy; no, I was sure of it. Who wouldn't be after being in a cell alone for two and a half years?
My cell mate, Sarah was her name, had died of a sickness a year ago and since then, I'd been left to talk to myself and the shadows on the wall.
Loneliness is something I had never really experienced before coming here. I had friends and family, and was always surrounded with people whether I needed them or not. Right now, I would have given anything to have the most annoying person in my life before this to keep me company now.
It was late, probably around three in the morning, and the only sounds were the faint coughs and occasional voices from the surrounding cells. It was an eerie and lonesome feeling.
I pulled on my chopped short blonde hair. I had gotten lice the week after I had arrived here and had to cut it off. I kept it short now just in case the disgusting insects came back.
I rolled over, closing my eyes tightly. And as I listened to the soft, melodic sounds of the wind and chains clanking, I was slowly lulled into a light sleep.
__
What seemed like an eternity later, I opened my eyes and sighed. I found myself in the same dark cell, and not in the beautiful world of my dreams. Alone.
According to the old watch I had taken from home, it was 10:45. I flicked my eyes around the room. I couldn't see a damned thing besides the crack beneath the door that cast an eerie stream of light halfway across the tiny room.
My stomach grumbled, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my shivering body. I had to remind myself that it was only a few hours until the food would come, but then once it did, I would have to wait yet another week until I got fed again.
I was starving.
I knew I should get out of bed and at least walk around to maintain my body heat, but I felt almost comatose. Exhaustion crept over my features as I tried desperately to keep my heavy eyelids open. I couldn't go back to sleep. With it being as cold as it was and me being so emaciated, I knew that if I did fall asleep again, then I might not wake up.
I forced myself to get up from the bed and shuffle across the room, holding my hand out in front of me until I felt my fingertips touch the opposite wall. It was damp and cold, just like everything else.
Suddenly, a noise came from the iron door and I gasped in quiet delight. I knew that it was that time.
Something slid under the door, and I scrambled over, tripping over my numb feet as I made my way to the object lying on the concrete floor.
I threw myself down on my hands and knees, mouth watering as I leaned in front of the paper plate. It wasn't much; just cold beans and a piece of stale bread, but it still looked good to me. I picked up the plate and began devouring the food. They didn't provide utensils, but I didn't care. At least they fed us-occasionally.
Another noise came from the other side of the heavy door, but I didn't pay any attention to it. I was so engrossed in eating my meal that I didn't really care. I had turned into an animal; struggling to survive and scrounging for food. I was disgusting.
All of a sudden, the door in front of me flew open, smacking me square in the jaw and throwing my head violently to the side. The paper plate fell out of my hands and dropped carelessly to the floor as I pressed my left hand against my now bleeding jaw. Blood trickled through my fingers and dripped to the floor beside me, but my eyes turned upwards, mouth falling open as I realized what had just happened. The door to my cell was open. I hadn't seen it open since the day Sarah's body had been taken away 389 days ago. But who was counting.
Light streamed through, illuminating the small interior of my so-called home. I squinted with my burning eyes through the brightness, barely able to make out a tall silhouette blocking some of the light. It stepped forward, and as the figure came closer, I found it was a soldier. He robotically walked through the doorframe and looked around disgustedly. I didn't blame him. It was gross in here.
He suddenly turned and yanked on a chain that I didn't notice he had been holding in his hand. Another figure entered the room, and I squinted to make out his face.
FEMA: Federal Emergency Management Agency
Day 704 in this cell. I've become quite accustomed to living in such a dark confinement now, that I guess it isn't so bad. Except for the fact that it's freezing cold and the drafty room doesn't help much either.
The things I miss most about home are my family and friends. I think about escaping back to them everyday.
I sometimes sing songs that my mum taught me, and people from cells near me occasionally sing with me. Our voices harmonize together in one symphony of loneliness in the middle of the darkest nights.
I just hope I escape soon. Two years alone is beginning to take its toll on me.
I sighed, closing my journal and slowly standing up from the cold concrete floor. The small stream of light coming from under the door was the only source I had to write with.
I trudged over to my small bed, tucking my worn leather bound journal beneath it. Flopping onto my uncomfortable bed, I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them for warmth. They didn't allow us blankets or pillows; yet another luxury we were deprived of.
Tonight, I didn't feel like singing. I just wanted to drown in my loneliness and tears and just . . . die. Waste away and die.
I missed my family, and my life. I needed someone.
I might have been crazy; no, I was sure of it. Who wouldn't be after being in a cell alone for two and a half years?
My cell mate, Sarah was her name, had died of a sickness a year ago and since then, I'd been left to talk to myself and the shadows on the wall.
Loneliness is something I had never really experienced before coming here. I had friends and family, and was always surrounded with people whether I needed them or not. Right now, I would have given anything to have the most annoying person in my life before this to keep me company now.
It was late, probably around three in the morning, and the only sounds were the faint coughs and occasional voices from the surrounding cells. It was an eerie and lonesome feeling.
I pulled on my chopped short blonde hair. I had gotten lice the week after I had arrived here and had to cut it off. I kept it short now just in case the disgusting insects came back.
I rolled over, closing my eyes tightly. And as I listened to the soft, melodic sounds of the wind and chains clanking, I was slowly lulled into a light sleep.
__
What seemed like an eternity later, I opened my eyes and sighed. I found myself in the same dark cell, and not in the beautiful world of my dreams. Alone.
According to the old watch I had taken from home, it was 10:45. I flicked my eyes around the room. I couldn't see a damned thing besides the crack beneath the door that cast an eerie stream of light halfway across the tiny room.
My stomach grumbled, and I pulled my jacket tighter around my shivering body. I had to remind myself that it was only a few hours until the food would come, but then once it did, I would have to wait yet another week until I got fed again.
I was starving.
I knew I should get out of bed and at least walk around to maintain my body heat, but I felt almost comatose. Exhaustion crept over my features as I tried desperately to keep my heavy eyelids open. I couldn't go back to sleep. With it being as cold as it was and me being so emaciated, I knew that if I did fall asleep again, then I might not wake up.
I forced myself to get up from the bed and shuffle across the room, holding my hand out in front of me until I felt my fingertips touch the opposite wall. It was damp and cold, just like everything else.
Suddenly, a noise came from the iron door and I gasped in quiet delight. I knew that it was that time.
Something slid under the door, and I scrambled over, tripping over my numb feet as I made my way to the object lying on the concrete floor.
I threw myself down on my hands and knees, mouth watering as I leaned in front of the paper plate. It wasn't much; just cold beans and a piece of stale bread, but it still looked good to me. I picked up the plate and began devouring the food. They didn't provide utensils, but I didn't care. At least they fed us-occasionally.
Another noise came from the other side of the heavy door, but I didn't pay any attention to it. I was so engrossed in eating my meal that I didn't really care. I had turned into an animal; struggling to survive and scrounging for food. I was disgusting.
All of a sudden, the door in front of me flew open, smacking me square in the jaw and throwing my head violently to the side. The paper plate fell out of my hands and dropped carelessly to the floor as I pressed my left hand against my now bleeding jaw. Blood trickled through my fingers and dripped to the floor beside me, but my eyes turned upwards, mouth falling open as I realized what had just happened. The door to my cell was open. I hadn't seen it open since the day Sarah's body had been taken away 389 days ago. But who was counting.
Light streamed through, illuminating the small interior of my so-called home. I squinted with my burning eyes through the brightness, barely able to make out a tall silhouette blocking some of the light. It stepped forward, and as the figure came closer, I found it was a soldier. He robotically walked through the doorframe and looked around disgustedly. I didn't blame him. It was gross in here.
He suddenly turned and yanked on a chain that I didn't notice he had been holding in his hand. Another figure entered the room, and I squinted to make out his face.
@FarTooYoungToDie
Yay!!! (: xx
1/17/15