I feel hopeless as I lay in my own defecation. Solitude and hunger have long become a norm to me in the darkness that I call my home. For awhile I was desperate enough to eat my own feces, but after I had violent spasms from doing so and I threw up more than I ate, I gave up the pursuit. Every passing day I grow more and more despairing of my situation. I wish somebody would save me, that somebody would come and break down this impenetrable steel wall, that I could finally be free and see the light of day again.

I can’t hear any noise beyond that of my own breathing from inside this soundproof hell. It feels like days since they last tortured me, but I won’t let them win. They won’t break me… They can take away my clothes, my dignity, my mind… but they will NEVER take my will to live. I know I’m not the only one they’re keeping down here, I know somebody has to be looking for me. I hate these people more than I can describe, there’s nothing more I would like than to see them suffering at my hands, to claw out their eyeballs and piss in their sockets.

The light was blinding, all I saw was the shadowy outlines of men against the too bright background of the now open door. I knew what they were going to do with me this time. I could tell by the way they were standing. I crawled weakly into a corner and curled into a ball, praying that they would change their minds or decide that I looked too thin or undesirable this time. It was no use, they came closer and closer to me, and I prayed harder and harder, sobbing and whimpering every time they took a step closer to me. They started to touch me.