Alternate (Phan)

28*An explanation

Daniel Howell

Sorry, I've been away for a while, I guess it's down to circumstances. Things change, times move on. My mind hasn't stopped the last few months, neither has my heart.

But that changed on this day.

I knew not of the date I left, nor the date it was. I could find the date out on my connector, but funnily enough, I was saving its charge to reach out to Phil, as well as not having much care anymore. I'd given up, to be honest. Again. When hadn't I given up on living in this place? This place that I'm supposed to call Earth and my home, but my only home was with Phil, whom I did not know where he was.

That night I left to pace outside, with my mind racing and not being able to control myself, I meant not to go off so far. I was just going outside to breathe in the fresh, deadly fumes of the outside's air. But during my short walk, someone caught me. They gripped the fabric of my shirt that rested against the back of my neck, holding their other arm around my torso from behind, pulling me towards them. I gasped, trying to scream, but no noise made its way out of my mouth with my breath so quickly hastened. I tried to lash back at them, but I felt myself being dragged away, sight muffled with fabric.

I woke up, tied against a hook in the floor with metal wire. Despite the most logical first thought should be to panic at the fact I'd been kidnapped, I thank my brain in which it wasn't: my first thought was kinky.

Fucking 'kinky'.

After chuckling at myself, I redirected my thoughts into something mildly logical in a way to escape, but knew I stood no chance. I'd already made the decision I'd been taken by the hunters, seeming that they are the only sickos in the world who would cause more stress on an individual in an already overly-traumatic existence.

A time period of beatings, snarly remarks from ugly personalities and threats spat by the tongues of those who tormented me, I had one hand released from the metal cuffs. It was at the first opportunity I had at being alone, that I scrambled for my connector and sent out the most noticeable option of communication with Phil.

It felt wrong, to attempt to - what felt like - luring him into this hell hole, but I knew deep down that I'd only be being selfish to not let him know of my survival or somewhat of my location. So after sending a twait with location turned on, I hurriedly turned my connector back off to responsibly preserve the truest-seeming life form around. For once, surrounded by these psychos, I felt like I wasn't the only one who was dead on the inside.

My limbs were flimsy, hardly used for at least a couple of months. I had no choice but to flail around on the floor as I remained hopelessly tied up. I would explain what the hunters did do to me, but it would be quicker to go through the list of bad things that they actually didn't do to me.

None of them raped me, but I guess that fits with their comments that I'm an undesirable object. My vision had not been impaired, however I was certain of a black eye. My nose seemed not painful enough to be broken, especially after sessions of prodding the bruising around it to confirm it wasn't so, however it was probably viewed as a purple plaster against my skin. However, random chunks of my body had been carved out, cooked and served for them to eat. It's violent, it's horrific and it makes me want to eradicate all food they'd served me within these walls. I am certain, however, that I ate no human, since they ate the 'prime meat' for themselves. On the bright side of them being cannibals, it seems wrong for my personality to have this optimism, I had eaten well, since they wanted the meat on my body, not just skin and bones.

I could go into more detail, and surely I will at some point. No experience with the hunters ever goes un-re-lived. But that's fine, the experiences within these four damp, rotting walls can be added to the collection of repressed memories from the submil. Life's a shit game sometimes, and there's nothing motivational I can uplift the other half to that with.

When you have hours of time on your hands, you fiddle around with nearby objects, including that annoying piece of wire that digs itself into your sides from your trousers, that you never seemed to sort out. I wiggled this out one night when I was alone, and jammed it around in the metal wiring around my wrist. It was through this, I realised I had the ability to escape. I remember from my entrance into this torture hole that I wasn't too many rooms away from the actual fucking exit of this place. I turned on my connector, opening up twatter and releasing a twait of a picture, confirming to Phil it was me and that I was - despite barely mentally feeling - alive.

A few hours later, the silence within the pit had spread itself across the underground rooms. In a place like this, silence is never comforting, it only brings suspense and fear. I jammed the wires out, standing up and toppling over the air beneath my feet, since my feet had grown too use to the inexperience of walking. I thank boredom, however, since I did whatever movements I could while tied up, in order to keep my mind busy. This allowed me to quickly regain my steps as I heaved my weight over to the corridor. Adrenaline. It sucks you up and seemingly spits you out at thousands of miles per hour, allowing yourself to race towards the exit of the pit, lifting yourself out. I entered through an empty field, which I was unaware of since I was blinded by a cloth as I was forcefully dragged here.

A bush remained my shelter for a couple of minutes, my body recovering from everything as my mind brought itself to one thought:

I don't know how to get back to Phil.