Zoey's POV
They came in sometime that night and took Leigh and Chloe from me. Of course, they can't see the boy, so he's still here, still right beside me.
As the days pass with just him and I alone in this now dark room, I feel as though he is becoming more and more real. That if they were to come in here right now, they'd see him too. But I hope they wouldn't, I don't want him to leave too. He's always here for me, through everything these nutjobs put me through, and I pray that he never leaves.
If he is an angel, I want to see his wings.
If he is a ghost, I want to resurrect him.
If he is like me, I want to never be apart from him.
I don't know how long I have been locked in here with just him in the dim lights, but it feels like weeks. I haven't had food or water, and I am beyond weak and sick as a dog. I can't move too much, I am very shaky, and I can tell my health is failing me.
If this is how they plan to kill me, death by starvation, then I will find a way to commit suicide. Maybe then I can finally be with this nameless boy. Maybe then I will be free of my insanity. Safe.
Safe?
That is such a foreign word....
One I have never used before. One I am not used to hearing, one that I wish I could hear all the time instead of insanity.
I will never get out of here alive.
I know they are trying to kill me - to see how long it takes before I die either by what they are doing to me or by killing myself.
Either would suffice if one would come sooner than the other, because I am tired of fighting this. The tests. The cold. The silence. The darkness. The loneliness. The uncertainty.
If I wasn't insane before, I am now. . .
