Day 142

              I smashed my fist on the door once again. There was a soft thud and the side of my hand was throbbing, but I refused to stop. It was still bruised from my relentless attempts of the past few days and I might never give it enough time to heal.

Day one hundred and forty-two.

The white room was poorly illuminated by the light bulb that hung from the ceiling in the middle of the small cube. The walls, floor, ceiling, and furniture were all the same shade of white. Even the tray I saw two times a day when I was given food was white.

I looked up at the security camera in the corner of the room. It was the only thing that wasn't lacking color besides myself. The flashing red light – the Eye – was always watching. It watched me sleep, eat, go to the bathroom, and even that one time I tried to swallow bleach.

Once every twenty-eight days, cleaning supplies were put through the food hole on the door. I learned pretty fast that if I didn't clean the room, I would suffer. Never enough to die but enough to make me think I was going to. The torture lasted for what felt like hours. The room would get so cold I would think no human could survive or the oxygen would be vacuumed out and I'd hallucinate.

I had once chugged enough bleach to the point where my esophagus burned and I thought for sure that I was going to die. When I had blacked out, I expected that to be the end. Instead, I woke up however many hours  or days later perfectly fine.

That blinking red eye. It was almost as if it was laughing at my suffering. Laughing as I screamed out to whoever delivered the food. Laughing as I stole the fork and tried digging my way out, only to shortly be met by a metal wall. Laughing as I began carving the days into the wall. Laughing as I once clawed at the door for so long my fingers began to bleed.

And I wonder, as one would, why I was even there in the first place.

The Eye knew.

It was hard to remember what I was doing when it happened. I think I was home (or was I walking home?) when I suddenly fell asleep. There was no warning. No feeling of fear. Just an average day.

Or was it? Was there a point where I felt I was being watched? Could there have been a person that I thought was oddly suspicious? Possibly someone had bumped into me and stuck a drug-filled needle into my neck? No, I would have remembered it. Right?

I can hear the footsteps of the food delivery man growing louder. Jerking my head away from the Eye, I look at the door and run to it. Yelling and screaming as loud as I can, tears streamed down my face. The food hole opened and a tray of steaming hot food slid through. I stuck my arm out to grab at the man, but I missed. I heard his deep chuckle as he slammed the hole door into my arm. I screamed in pain and pulled my arm to my body. It would bruise later but that wasn't important.

Sometimes Deep Voice would deliver the food. He'd was more aggressive, not caring whether or not I was hurt in the exchange. Then there was Hesitant. He seemed younger, not having grey arm hairs, and he was more gentile than Deep Voice. In one hundred and forty two days I never saw their faces, but I knew them by their arms and foot patterns.

My body was bruised and aching from my attempts to get free. Part of me knew it was pointless, but I didn't want the Eye thinking I had succumbed to the lifestyle it had forced me into. Sure, I cried. I cried every night, but I was still fueled by a need to escape and be reunited with my parents.

Rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes, an assortment of vegetables, two bottles of water, and a white envelope sealed in red wax. I'm always kept well fed and get the same food every week on a seven day cycle. I considered this dinner my Wednesday dinner, although I have no idea what day it actually is. If I remember the day I was captured correctly, then today is Wednesday.

The one thing about this meal I was not expecting was the envelope. I hadn't even seen paper since I was forced away from my life. And never had I seen an envelope to elegantly sealed in wax, a perfect crimson circle. As much as I want to know what is inside the envelope, one would think the sound of my stomach growling was thunder. 

I'm also nervous about what to expect from the envelope. It didn't look like there was anything inside, meaning that it was empty or there was just paper. I itched with curiosity, but patiently waited to finish eating. It's my small way of showing the Eye that I don't care what it has to tell me.

After my meal, I put the tray on the floor near the door. It wouldn't be retrieved until I was sleeping. Even then, I had never actually seen anyone take the tray. It was just gone when I woke up.

I sit on the bed, staring at the envelope, wondering what to do. The obvious answer is to open it, but my body is frozen at the thought of it being laced with something nearly lethal.

That's what had happened the first time I had refused to clean the room. When my next meal came, I had inhaled the smell of the spaghetti. The steam caused my eyes to water and my throat to clog. My skin began to itch and hives formed around my face. I had never thought I was allergic to anything, but I stayed in that state for hours. I was trapped in that room until the full tray of food was taken away when I eventually succumbed to slumber, curled in a ball in the far most corner of the room.

To this day, I wonder what might have happened if I actually ate the pasta. Could I have died? Could this pain and suffering have ended early?

I opened the envelope. There was a small sheet of white paper with writing written in cursive. The black ink made a beautiful contrast that I felt I hadn't seen in years other than from the shadows made by the light bulb. I was almost afraid to read the letter, but I had already come this far. The font was difficult to read, as it was very thin and I hadn't had to read script in a long time. 

It read:

Hello, [unreadable].

You are here today because you show extraordinary cognitive abilities. We believe that this simulation will aid in the [unreadable] of your abilities. You and a select group of people have been chosen to work with us to cleanse the world of [unreadable]. In ten days, we will move you to a new location to begin your training. There, you will be briefed on your role in the cause. If you choose not to cooperate, there will be repercussions. We are [unreadable] you understand what these repercussions can consist of and [unreadable] for your cooperation. After you are done reading this letter, slide it through the hole in the door. If the hole is not open, wait for your next meal.

Sincerely,

The [unreadable] Corp.

I had no time to react. A screech of metal against metal emitted from past the door. I stood from the bed and ran to the back wall. I could hear people screaming and I jumped at the sound of gunfire. The muffled shrieks timed with the sound of my heart racing to the point I thought it was going to leap out of my chest. This went on for a while and then it all stopped like a flick of a light switch.

The only noise I could hear was of my own heart filling the silence. The overhead light began to flicker until it burst. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. A few seconds later, it sounded as if someone was scratching. Like a dog against a door. It sounded far away, but moved closer and louder. Then it was at my door. I looked in the direction of the Eye, wondering what it saw, but its eyes were closed.

The door began to open silently. All I could see were silhouetted figures and a fire raging in the hallway beyond the room.

"Come on. We're getting out of here," one of the figures said.