My Cold Days

Ch. 1

1423 days here. 1423 days imprisoned. 1423 days of not knowing what's happening in the outside world. Every day I have woken up. Every day I eat. Every day I sob. And every day I sleep. All I know is that I've been locked up in this prison for 1423 days. I also haven't spoken a single word for 1423 days. I haven't heard a loving voice in much, much longer than that. But my depression comes from a much deeper source. Something I have vowed to keep in my mind for eternity. I have vowed to never let my desires blur my vision.

My morning today was the same as my daily routine. I woke up laying on my side staring at the wall and hands glued together under my head. My long dirty blonde hair was loose as usual and flowing down on my shoulder. I pulled my blanket up past my chest desperate for warmth. The blanket, however, did not provide the warmth I needed.  My hair was the only real warmth I had. I greatly wanted to shut my eyes again and take a few more minutes of sleep. I groaned as I swung my legs around my wooden bed and to the ground. My day had begun.

Basically I have nothing to do in the morning. I wore the same clothes everyday and they only let me out of my cell once a week to use the restroom. The only place for me to empty my bladder every other day is to go in the corner of the room. One small latrine is there with a pipe that connects it to the wall. It didn't bother me or make me feel awkward because I was the only person staying in that cell. There are four walls, four reminders of my miserable life. That's the reason I haven't spoken for 1423 days. No one can see into my cell or hear at all. Or at least I assume they can't hear me. After all, I haven't spoken for 1423 days. I don't normally eat much, resulting in a lot wasted food. I can normally bare a week until they let us use a restroom to shower and take care of our hygiene. 

The clothes are a different deal. I'm not forced to wear a orange jumpsuit or black and white stripes like you would expect. I think I am 17 now. I was imprisoned here when I was about 13 or 14. I'm not quite sure. I don't care or remember any of those things. For all I know I am 20 already. I came here in a long blue dress. It had long sleeves that extended just past my elbows. The waistline was just above my belly button. The skirt reached the ground. It slightly glimmered with a ribbon flowing down my back. I wore that dress often, so it was no surprise that's the dress I ended up wearing on the day of my arrest. Over time I grew and the light glow that once brought the dress to life faded. The blue faded as well and became dull. The long ribbon fell as I was forced into this lonely prison cell. I grew and the dress tore and the sleeves are now midway through my upper arms. The length of the skirt changed as well. Instead of touching the ground it is right above my knees. I tore the skirt so it would look that way. 

So it's not like I can change my clothes or brush my teeth in the morning. My mornings are nothing but boredom. No, they're nothing but dust. Now I wait.

Every morning they force me to stand in front of the door and wait until they come. They need to inspect me to make sure I have nothing to escape. To me this is just pointless. If I already have nothing to escape and I never leave the cell I don't see how it's possible for me to attain something. They come in quickly to check me for anything. I don't ask any questions, they don't ask any questions, I don't give any answers, and they don't give any answers. I never let them touch me though. I don't even think they want to touch me. I don't have any pockets on my dress or shoes so there is no need for them to touch me anyway. And there is no way for me to store anything in my hair. They then look around my room. They aren't very thorough though. I know because I smuggled something into prison with me that I hid in a small crack in the wall. I'm happy they aren't able to find it but at the same time I am wishing they could find it and take it far far away from here. It is just another reminder of my old life which had heavily burdened me.

Normally the same two vigils come in everyday. They each have mustaches, one a light brown, but the other black. The one with the light brown mustache was particularly lanky with hazel eyes. The other vigil was short but skinny and had brown eyes. It was an odd combination, but I don't think they get along very well based on the way the way they constantly sneer at each other. I had different vigils come in today. Perhaps the other vigils were assigned a more important job, or had gotten sick. These two were nearly identical except for the eye color. They were both stalky and had light brown whiskers. One of them had blue eyes while the other one had green eyes. I assume that everyone's hair color is the same as their mustache because I can't see under their helmets. As soon as they came in through that door I knew it was trouble.