A Far Cry from Normal

6: Almost 17 years old

I've counted every single day. Every day I've been stuck here, every day I've screamed at the people who put me here, every day to plan revenge. The last time I cried was the first day. After that I made three promises to myself. The first was to get out. The second was to find my family. The third was to make whoever put me in this room, pay for what they did.

To be exact, I've spent 2848 days here not including the three times they took me out and I was awake. Locked in a room that never changed.

The first time I left was five days after being here. They asked me to pick one of four things in a table. One was a hot coal, the other was a bowl of water, after that was a rock, and the last one was an empty jar. I took the hot coal and tried to throw it at the person asking me the question.

It probably wasn't their fault for me being their, but it still wasn't right what they were doing. They can't just take people and force them into isolation for years. After that I felt a pinch in my neck and that was it.

The second time they took me out was because I broke my wrist pounding in the wall. They walked in and gave me a shot. After that I didn't remember anything up to the point where I woke up in a room similar to the one I was tested in. They examined me and gave me a brace.

A month after that visit the same person came in with my dinner and told me to take the brace off. I did as I was told and she took it away. When I tried to grab her as she left, or more accurately her keys hanging from her pocket, three guys came in and pinned me to the ground. I later then woke up in bed. 

Their was this one time two years ago when they took me to this farm or ranch in a jungle or something. It definitely didn't look like southern California. Mainly because it was raining for the majority of the time I was their.

I didn't do much their and I didn't talk to, too many people. Their was this one girl named Annie I talked to a few times in the latrines. We worked on mostly building and cleaning. Picking up trash, washing random things living around, and painting a few times. If you were to ask me, that might have been one of the best times I've had. Being alone just painting and planning revenge not carding what would happen to me in the future. Then again, I don't know if I've gone crazy.

I counted every day I was their. I didn't mind being their though. That's what I thought was the craziest part. 112 days in total I spent their, and I loved it.

Other than those times, the only other trips I took were to a different prison or to take me out three times a week across the hall to the showers. They provide shampoo, conditioner, and soap but no brush so I usefully finger comb my hair. After that I go right back to the room.

I've come to the conclusion that they take me out of here once a week and do some sort of tests. Every 8 days they come in and give me a shot. Later on I wake up back in my room with pain either all over, in my chest, in my head, or in my arms extending to my hands.  Most of the times when i wake up from the shot, I have bruises or welts. Their was this one time when I woke up strapped to a table with a bright light in my face. After that I herd guys saying, code 9 and anesthesia NOW!

About 78 days into me being here I woke up with a scar in my chest. My whole body hurt like hell. That was the first, and only, time I felt like ending it. My only motivation was to kill or get some serious revenge on who put me in here.

The most recent time I woke up, their was a bandage on my arm. Someone said in the com not to mess with it. When I took it off it revealed a stitched wound running down the middle of my arm. Three men then came in and gave me a shot right in the neck.

Besides having metal doors and metal walls, I have a small window I spend most of my time looking out of. It isn't completely clear, but you can still see colors and light coming through it. Besides looking through the window I do workouts or scream at the people watching me.

Underneath the window is my bed. At the foot of the bed is where I eat my food. It consists of a small chair and an even small table, both metal.

On the one wall with nothings pressed up against it is the second door. This however isn't made of metal, but of an opaque glass. Behind it is the bathroom. One toilet and one sink.

I've calculated the days. Theirs 5 days left till I'm 17. 5 days till I've been here for another year. It's stupid that I even think I have a life left. To think that I still have friends. That I have a future. It just makes me feel stupid.

Hey'lo! So I know it's kind if cringe worthy but you know what, I don't care. I probably won't be editing for a little while so I truly am sorry. I really want people to enjoy this even if it isn't so good...well anyways hope you are enjoying it so far and tell you friends or whatever if you want. (It would make me really happy if you did:)