They sat there, listening to the snow patter outside of their window. It was painful to hear it every single day. Every single day, the snow would come but it would never set nor melt. Everyway was cold. Everyday was boring. Everyday was writing.
But they were forced to write and write, read and sit there, listening to the same lo-fi playing for the past 2 1/2 years. The same playlist on loop. The only think keeping them sane was the new people that joined, but they left within months, maybe even days. It was bad being stuck here. They had to leave.
But they couldn't.
It was impossible to escape.
This place had no leaving area, it had no door. It was a room with one desk and a camera.
No food or water unless fed through a tube in my stomach under the desk.
This hellscape of consistent lo-fi and silence was killing them.
But they sat there, listening away to the lo-fi, watching people join and leave as if it was nothing.
Who will hear their cries of help?
[picrew: https://picrew.me/image_maker/457262/ ]
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Picrew Short Stories
FanfictionJust short stories I made from Picrews. This is more of a dump tbh.
