Illusion: Destiny Awaits (In Editing)

2 - Sabrina

Her screams still echo in my head. Is she here? If so, what are they doing to her? I hope she's okay. They can do whatever they want to me, but they can never hurt my best friend. We have gone through so much together. The death of my grandfather, getting dogs, birthdays, holidays. We haven't been this distant for a while! We've done everything together. Everything. With a few exceptions, but you get the point.

My thoughts drift to my parents. I wonder how they are doing. I think of little Jago. Suddenly, a thought strikes me: how long have I been gone? Days, weeks, months? Probably days. Nevermind, not probably. Definitely. It feels like ages that I've been down here, in this cold, wet, empty prison. Or at least I think it's a prison. It certainly feels like one.

I'm not chained to anything, but even if I did escape, I wouldn't reach the surface before running out of air. I don't think I even can escape. I'm too weak. My vibrant red hair is now limp and lifeless and my bright swimsuit looks really out of place in this drab, colorless room. I love color, so right now, I'm just glad I have my swimsuit, which is bright and sunny.

My stomach growls hungrily. I then realize something. They haven't given me any food or water. Uh oh. This might be a small problem. Just then, the large iron door swings open heavily and a well-armed guard steps in. He is holding a green tray of food... it looks like. I lick my lips, imagining the delicious turkey, or burgers, that we have sometimes back at home.

"Your food," he tells me stiffly. I nod my thanks, too busy scrutinizing the food to do much else. A moldy, soggy piece of bread, something that looks like soup, and a spoon. Oh, and water. Oh, joy! It's like Thanksgiving! I think to myself sarcastically. The guard marches out and I am left with my food... or rather garbage. I plug my nose and take a bite of bread. I gag, it tastes like—I don't even know the word to describe it. Maybe dreadful, awful, repulsive, vile? All seem to fit the description. I have to roll my eyes at my own sarcasm. I can practically hear Christi's voice:

"Being sarcastic to yourself is the first sign of going mad." I laugh bitterly. I probably am going mad. But I don't particularly care. I want out. I want out of this wretched place. It feels like I've only been here for about a day, but I'm already sick of it. Wow, if I ever went to a real prison I would not last long. Instead of going to prison, I would probably end up in a mental hospital.

I choke down the rest of my 'meal' and sit cross-legged on the cold floor. Unsurprisingly, the floor is wet, so now I'm even colder. I sigh. Will I ever get out of here? I hope Christi's okay. I mean, she was screaming.

I start to panic. Did they take her too? If so, what are they doing to her? Is she in pain? Is she even alive? I shudder at the last one and quickly push it to the back of my mind. She can't be dead. She won't, she CAN'T.

I start breathing very fast, and I take deep breaths to slow my heart. It will be okay, everything will be okay. I tell myself. My phone beeps. I scurry over to where it lays and see that Christi is calling. She's alive! She's going to get me out of here and everything will be back to normal! I hurriedly press the Accept Call button.

"Christi? Christi!" I shout into it.

"Sabrina! Listen to me—" Then her voice is cut off, and she is screaming, a terrible shriek, filled with pain... and fear.

"No! Christi, CHRISTI!" I scream, "CHRISTINE BRANDON!" I fall to the floor as her screams continue. Why are they doing this? WHY? Eventually, her cries stop, and I am left, shaking on the floor in terror and helplessness.

🎔

I don't know how long I've been like this. It could be just five minutes, or ten, or a day... my thoughts drift as I gaze aimlessly at the drab walls. I had long since counted the cracks, and I even remember the number: 483. That's how bored I am. I can count all 483 of the cracks in the wall, and even remember that number. But...