Stockholm Syndrome

11/18 12:00

What is this room? I never got a chance to actually notice my surroundings, due to my lack of will and mind. I need to remember when I get out so I can tell the police in fine detail.

We probably were in a basement. The walls are cold; my basement theory was more supported. I'm underground. I've felt like dying this whole time. Irony has me by the gut. This room is more like a grave; but my life is still suffering.

My bed is in the very corner of the room. It's basically just a big mattress with sheets on the floor. The door is at the opposite side. A toilet sits across from me, with a small sink and soap beside it. Why would he go through so much trouble for me to have soap and toilet paper?

I know, it's a room fit for a princess; more like a Rapunzel than a Belle, though. Belle had talking dressers and clocks to keep her company. She even had the whole castle to walk around in; besides the west wing. What was the deal with that? He should've known that she was so curious and had nothing left to lose that she'd go wherever she pleased and go to a forbidden area. The Beast was so naive. Anyways, at least Rapunzel had a window and a pet chameleon. I have concrete walls and that dead cockroach in the corner. Don't even get me started on that.

Rapunzel also had a lot to sing about. I barely get to hear music anymore. Music is probably one of the sole things I miss since I was taken; that and books. Maybe I'm a mixture of Belle and Rapunzel. I have a Beast and my hair is starting to get longer. By Christmas I'll finally have enough hair to use as a rope! I get really sarcastic with myself when I'm alone for a long amount of time

I laid down on my back; this is weird. I looked up at the ceiling. Glow in the dark stars were stuck to the pale cement. He tried to make me feel comfortable? What the hell. I'm starting to wonder what the fuck this guys' problem is.