They continued to stand over me and just watch me. Fucking freaks if I do say so myself. But why was my phone fixed? I continued to just lie there and I wondered how long I was asleep for all my bruises to heal. I was starving and I think they could tell that too. One of the people left. And came back later with a Big Mac (idk okay stfu I was hungry writing this) and some soda. He came towards me to set it down and I got a good look at him. He looked about 20 and well groomed. He then quickly left. Then they all talked for a little and left. As they left they flicked on a light switch which was dim but I could still see. I sat up to eat and God was it ever good. I practically inhaled it. I then grabbed my phone. It was fully charged and attached to it was a portable charger. It had zero signal and it didn't have anything to text on because I'm assuming that they somehow got rid of it so I couldn't text for help. Then, two of them ran into the room with a huge oxygen tank and a mask. They held it over my head and were forcing me to breathe air. I don't need to breathe anymore so I just coughed and coughed. They soon figured out that that would work and left. They then came back with a case. Then opened the case and it had all kinds of medical things. I know what they're doing now. They took out a huge needle and stuck it into my arm and I immediately passed out. I woke up later I'm assuming that week. I had all kinds of bandages and gauze on my body. I'm so confused damn it. I could hardly move. I grabbed my phone and all of my music was still on there. Hallelujah. I pressed shuffle and just let the music play. I instantly felt a million times better. Soon after one of the people opened the door. It was the younger one. He handed me a glass of water and told me he was the one who got my phone fixed because he could tell that I needed it. I think he's the nice one. Maybe I can trick him into letting me go. Just maybe
