ClashTastic
It's a cell. Your cell. You're all alone, yet you are not. The people that once roamed outside of your little cell have ceased to exist no more. In fact, the world seems to exist no more. You, though, are alive. Lonely. Tired. Stuck in a little room, but alive. There are others; there has to be others. Who else would be sending you letters?
Who else is left to die?