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I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I have not drunk or eaten. It must be days. The solution on the floor I found to be my urine and excrement. A physiological reaction to the stress on my nerves from the rats’ feast perhaps. That also explained the stench, and I haven’t made any movements since, which was simple, considering there is nothing in my body to release. My nausea comes and goes, but I haven’t vomited again. Fortunately I did find a small vent at the very top of one wall, which at first I would stand on tip toes, my weight supported by my right side, to suck up as much air as I could. I slipped several times and my body is covered in my own filth. I am becoming weaker, and most of the time I have slept, hoping to stay asleep for two main reasons. I am desperate to awaken and be somewhere else, anywhere but here, I can’t take it in this box anymore. I don’t care if I must suffer more, I just wish for light, for air, fresh air, but mostly I wish to awaken and find that this has been a nightmare. My second reason is I am beginning to fear myself, my consciousness, my mind, as my mind is the only thing that this environment cannot keep from functioning, it is going quite excessively, expanding in various directions, finding new ways to travel, becoming another whole self and I don’t know if I can control it anymore. So I must sleep, so I will not think.
I cannot stand anymore. The inactivity of my legs, particularly the wounded one, bound by chains, has caused them to be numb, and when I move them, I suffer. My body aches from lack of exercise.
I can’t fall asleep anymore. My mind has taken control, or at least it is now a peer. Not a moment goes by without a thought of my sweet Fay existing in some part of my head. The image of her flashes again and again and sometimes I see the rats. Eating her. And I can hear her screaming for me.
“FAY!” I cry out, startling myself.
Mommy! The car crashes and tumbles. Frightening. Very scared. Trapped. Crawling. Must get free. Must get out. What are you saying Mommy. What is your mouth saying to me. Must get out! Must get free! Trapped…
I attempt to crawl from the wreckage, but there is no way out. This is different. Something is wrong. I should be able to get out but I can’t find my way. Help me! Help me!
…I…I…am not in the crash…I am in the metal box.
…to be continued…