The Mindless Man's Paradise

Chapter seven

The hunger was unbearable and I felt like I hadn’t drank in days.

 My eyes tried to adjust to the dim lighting, but there wasn’t nearly enough for me to see anything. I could hardly even see my hand when I stuck it out in front of my face.

 I repositioned myself so that I could stand, but when I strained myself to get up, I was hampered by ropes that were wrapped around my wrists and cuffs tightly bound to my ankles.

 Could Cyrus and his family have done this?

 As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I had no doubt.

 Had I actually been as foolish as to call Aurora and Jensen hospitable? Now I was locked in a barren room with nothing around me.

 Well, nothing that I could reach, anyways.

 I banged my fist against the wall that I was propped up against. When it made a dull thud, I knew I was underground. I was locked up in a basement.

 No food.

 No water.

 No stimulation.

 I would go crazy and eventually die, wouldn’t I? Was that the plan?

 Kicking and punching. I started out with that. Then it turned slowly into grunts and then to shouts and ferocious snarls and bellowing.

 “I WILL GET OUT OF HERE. AND WHEN I DO, THE FIRST THING I WILL DO IS REPORT YOU PSYCHOS TO HQ.” I yelled.

 I made several more threats.

 Some vulgar, some physical, and some downright derogatory. But I didn’t care.

 I would not wither away in a basement.

 My headstrong attitude did not last for long, though.

 Shouting was exhausting, to be completely honest. My throat was raw, and I couldn’t raise my voice above a whisper any longer, but I found myself still trying to call to them.

 After my voice broke, and I couldn’t even speak softly, I started to cry.

 It was a cry of hopelessness; desperation. The most pitiful of all cries.

 I cried myself to sleep.

 What had I done to deserve this?

 Did God, or whatever was up there, think it was funny? Ironic, even?

 If so, God was a psychopath, too. And I had no business in praying to one of those.