The Lost and the Forgotten

Chapter Seven

Weeks later I'm still in this place, locked up like a rabid animal in a cage. They come and feed me every other day, and leave me a glass of water to last until the next time. The portions are pathetic, but I'm so starved I eat it, chocking down every bite until the tray is spotless.

With that, I've lost weight. It's been two weeks, and I've seen pound shed from my sides, thighs, and stomach. My ribs are barely noticeable with my suit on. I never realized how easy it is to show ribs in such a short amount of time. I feel weak and frail, as if with one touch I'd melt into pudding and fall to the floor.

No physical training has occurred yet, and I don't think it ever will. I think the only thing they're testing us for us mental strength of how long you can last in this nuthouse before absolutely loosing it. I already did a couple of weeks ago, but it didn't do much good. All I know is I have to get out, and fast. My month is already almost up and my father will be eagerly awaiting my arrival. If I don't show, he will be deviated, and so will Beth. In my head, I can imagine her big blue eyes glossy with tears when she figures out I may never come back. I can't do that. No matter how hard I try, I'll have to try harder in order to make it back.

The days are long and boring. It mostly consists of sleeping, crying, sleeping, eating barely any food, drinking my glass of water, and sleeping some more. It seems like the more I sleep, the more tired I get and want more sleep. Like my life is being sucked out of me with ever breath I take. But when I'm not sleeping or sobbing, I'm walking back and forward across my room, thinking of a plan to escape.

The cot would be perfect to shatter the window, but it's indestructible. Plus below me is another twenty stories. If I were to jump, I'd die. The side of the building is slick and smooth, so I wouldn't have any traction to climb down.

Anther option is killing the guard who brings my food, taking his keys and guns, and booking it. But the problem is is that he doesn't have any guns. The MM must know we would try to escape that way. Even though I do have a knife in my back pocket.... Bingo. That's what I will do. I'll go to the sink and cut my arm open, exposing blood before my food comes. I'll add water to it, so the blood drips all over and I can smear it on my arms and face. When he comes in, I'll act like I cut it on something an cry out for help. He will be stunned, and when he rushes over, I'll cover his mouth and stab him. Yes, my arm may be bloody and sore, but it's an epic plan that he will fall for. I'm sure of it. I'll just have to wait for the right moment.

A smile covers my face and I hide it form the camera. Examining the city from the window, I say my goodbyes early. Tomorrow they bring food, and I'll bring Death. He will take the guard into his arms, and freedom will take me.

Laying down on my cot, I wait for today to go by, and eagerly await tomorrow. I've seen the sunset too many times before, so I stare at the ceiling with the sheets draped over my body, to give me as much warmth as possible, even though my teeth are chattering.

***

It must me one in the morning, but I awake with alert. I feel like somebody is in here with me, staring at me. I shake it off. Rolling over on my side, I slip my hand under the pillow and sprawl out. My hand brushes across what feels like paper, causing the crunch sound to ring in the air. My heart skips a beat and I pull it out, using the moonlight peeking through my window to help me read. My hands tremble, afraid of what awaits. Someone snuck in and put this here, like the tooth fairy. I take a breath and read it in my head.

Christina,

You will probably wake up from the feeling someone was in your room, but that doesn't matter. Earlier today I found out what happened to Molly and John. I hate to bring bad news, but you have the right to know. John was suspected of lying and sent to the electric chair. He survived, but he's gone off the deep end. He attacks everyone that comes in contact with him, and doesn't remember anything-or so he says. He's on the first floor, room 114, locked in chains to a table. The guards all have the generic keys that fit the locks.