Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 117010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
My thoughts kept jumping from one extreme to the next, each one worse than the last. They ran the gamut from anger to fear and back again until I finally felt defeated. A part of me was sure this wasn’t real. Things like this only happen in the movies, right. There’s no way anyone could get away with locking me away somewhere; it’s just not possible.
“Where am I? You can’t keep me here.” The chains cut into my hands when I struggled until I’m sure they drew blood, but still, no one came. I kept at it until I grew tired to the point of exhaustion then passed out again from sheer frustration and terror. I’m not sure how long I was out this time because when I awoke, the room still looked the same. I looked around as much as my position allowed but saw nothing.
There was nothing but the empty room with that strange light that reflected off the walls. I tried listening for anything, but there was no sound other than the rapid pace of my breathing. A psych ward, I’m pretty sure that’s where I was, and the thought filled me with so much fear I almost passed out again.
I fought to stay awake this time and tried to make sense of what was going on around me. I waited for the two strangers to return, but they didn’t; no one came. From what little I could see, there were no windows in the room. I was in a box, it felt like. I had to fight to keep the moans that tickled my throat from escaping my lungs, but there was nothing to stop the tears that fell.
I couldn’t even hold onto my anger for any length of time because the fear was too real, too prevalent. The not knowing was almost too much to bear, and all I kept wondering was how my life had come to this. I wanted to be angry, to do what I always do when I feel threatened in some way, but I couldn’t even dredge up enough anger to hold onto. The only thing I felt was fear.
I pleaded and begged outwardly and inwardly, but no one came. My yells and screams echoed around the room, but only I seemed to hear. I went in and out of consciousness too many times to count before I grew too tired to continue, and each time I awakened to that same brightness in the room. “Hello. Is anyone there?” Nothing!
I don’t know how long I stayed awake this time, but I knew if this went on much longer, I’d really go insane. I didn’t hear the door open or any kind of sound, but it seemed I blinked, and the next minute there was someone standing beside the cot I’d been laid out on.
“Who are you, people? What am I doing here?” Nothing! He, she, it, I couldn’t tell what it was, just pulled a stool closer and sat with a bowl of what looked like oatmeal. It had a sickly-sweet look on its face when it pressed a button, and the cot raised until I was in an almost seated position. “Do you talk? Say something.”
Again, nothing; it just lifted a spoon to my lips which I held closed. I don’t like oatmeal; I never did. Just the mere texture of it makes me want to barf. But it kept pushing the spoon past my lips until I gagged. “Are you a robot?” The damn thing kept that stupid look on its face as it raised the spoon again. What the hell? Maybe I’m dreaming. Let me see, what’s the last thing that happened?
I was on the plane, there was that stupid video and the picture in the bathroom, what else? Did I really lose my shit? Is that why they brought me here? Was anyone looking for me? Jimmy, Becky, anyone? While I was trying to put the pieces together in my head, this thing was steadily trying to feed me wall paint disguised as food, and the more I resisted, the more it persisted until I really did throw up in my throat.
I’ve never known real fear, never doubted that I could get out of any situation I found myself in, until now. The not knowing was scarier than anything else. I knew nothing, not where I was, not how long I’d be here, and not even why I was here. Who was behind this? I had a feeling I knew. This seemed like a bit much, though, as payback for anything I’d done to Gia in the past.
It seemed unfair when coupled with everything else that had happened in the last few days. She’d cost me my home, my friends, even my school, and now this. How does Gabe Russo know this place, and why the hell did he have me sent here? I have no doubt that this was all his sick twisted doing, but I failed to see how I warranted this.