text: My eyes fly open. Where am I? I look around and find myself in a strange room. Smooth walls, floor, and ceiling, all made of cement. Fluorescent lights irritate my eyes. There is a white cot in one corner of the room and a white desk with a chair in the opposite corner. I get up from the floor and look around more carefully, but there’s nothing else to find except two number two pencils and a sheet of paper on the desk. After seeing this, I realize there is no door. Panic sets in, there is a pit in my stomach, my mouth is dry, and I start to shake. I sprint to the wall, moving my hands up and down, trying to find a handle. I do this to all four walls of my square room. There is nothing. I shout to see if anyone will respond. All I hear is the echo of my own screams. A sob rises in my throat and I can’t stop it. I move over to my cot and lay down and cry myself to sleep. I don’t know what time it is when I wake up. I look down at my watch that I always wear to find that it’s missing. I'll never know what time it is. I feel better after sleeping. I now realize there may be hope, I just need time to think. The chair at my desk is uncomfortable, but at least it’s something to sit on. Now that my head is clear, I ask myself some questions to get my bearings. *What’s my name?* ***I don’t remember.*** *How old am I?* ***I don’t know.*** *What is this place and why am I here?* ***I have no idea.*** Anxiety pushes its way into my brain, dominating all other feelings, making me feel insignificant. I can usually push this away, but not now. Not when I can’t even remember my own fucking name. I feel worthless. I feel small. There is no hope. I don’t know how long I’ll be down here for, so I started a tally on the sheet of paper. I am careful not to break the lead of the pencil, seeing how I only have two and there is no way to sharpen them. As I write the first tally, I think that maybe soon someone will come and talk to me and explain what’s going on. All I must do is wait. I don’t know what time it is, but I’m tired, so I fall asleep. Nothing has changed in the room when I wake up, and I have a realization. I can’t tell when a day has passed because the lights never shut off, so my tally system is useless. Before I have the time to worry about that, another feeling comes over me. Hunger. I am starving and there’s nothing to eat. I swallow my spit to try to feel just a little satisfaction, but there’s nothing. I don’t know what to do. I do know I should be able to last a while without food, though, so, maybe the person that will tell me what this place is will bring me food, right? What seems like days pass, and I get hungrier and hungrier. As I am dozing, I hear something, and sit up. I listen closely. There is a whisper. *Are you hungry?* I don’t have the energy to speak, so I nod my head. *Well, that’s too bad... you have plenty of food.* The voice trails off. The voice is wrong, I don’t have any food. I look around the room once again. There’s something new on the desk. I weakly stumble towards it. It’s a menu. I open it up and all there is one picture. A picture of me. I blink, and the menu is gone, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. I go back to my cot and think about the voice. Maybe it was right. Anything in my stomach would feel wonderful. But no, this is a ridiculous idea, I’m going crazy.... But I can’t stop the urge. I raise my forearm to my mouth and dig my teeth into the muscle. Pain shoots up my arm, but I ignore it, for the pain in my stomach is greater. I only have enough energy to swallow as I pass out. I wake up. There is dry blood everywhere and my whole body is in agonizing pain. I look down at my arm and see the flesh and muscle ripped out. I can see bone. This causes me to throw up. I cry as I heave up the flesh I had eaten, and I eat the vomit in order to keep my nutrients. I have no other choice. A sudden wave of anger come over me, which causes me to go over to my desk and snap a pencil in two. I lay down on the floor, for I am too weak to move to the other side of my room. I pass out once again. There is someone in the room when I wake up. A bald man with a brown beard, wearing an all-black suit. He spoke to me, but he never opened his mouth. He spoke in my head. *How pitiful you are. Why are you doing these things to yourself? Do you really think someone will save you?* He slowly walks towards me. *You are too worthless to be saved at this point. I don’t know why you thought you would be in the first place. No* *one cares about you, no one loves you. You have nothing. You are nothing.* He is within my grasp. I swipe at him, and he disappears. I think about what he said. He’s not wrong. I am nothing. I am worthless. I am **alone**. But I do know a way out of this hell. I manage to sit in the chair at the desk. I don’t know if I can do this, but I have no choice. I pick up the second pencil, still sharp. Tears run down my cheeks as I raise the pencil to my neck. I put the point of the pencil right over my jugular vein. There is still time to stop myself, but I don’t see a reason why. I close my eyes as I push the pencil into my neck.