Kidnapped, Part 2

September 22, 2009

Still counting the days by how often the bucket of Frosted Flakes and milk comes around. Today I saw how it gets in here at least. I had figured that there was some opening in the main door, like a doggy door, and I was right. I sat right next to the door and fell asleep there so I’d wake up when they fed me, if that was how they were doing it. I don’t know how long I’d been asleep before I heard the slot open in the door, and I woke up instantly, trying to get some glimpse of outside light to figure out what time it was. But I guess they blacked out the room outside of this one, too, because I couldn’t see shit. Just a bucket sliding out with cereal and a carton of milk and a plastic spoon in it.

So I don’t know where I am, I don’t really know what day it is, and I don’t know what they want from me. Whoever has me hasn’t spoken to me once in the four days I’ve been here. The longer I’m here the more freaked out that makes me, like they’re not talking to me to keep from getting attached or something. Like how you treat an animal that you brought in just to kill – you don’t want to get attached.

At least lunch was different today. They brought me McDonald’s. It was a little cold, so I guess I’m a little bit of a drive away from anything, but it was soooo good to taste a hamburger and fries! When I was done, I looked around and said “Thank You. I don’t know if you watch me, or how, or whatever, but if you can hear me, thanks. That was really good.” A week ago if somebody told me that I’d ever thank someone for giving me McD’s like it was a 5-star restaurant I’d have laughed in their face, but now it just felt so good to remember that there was a world out there, that the whole world didn’t end right outside my walls.

I started working out today. I figured I was bored enough, and if I ever got a chance to try and fight my was out of here, I’d better be ready. I was disgusted by the terrible shape I’m in, though. I could only do seven pushups and only 20 situps before I was done. I did a few jumping jacks to warm up, but my equipment choices are a little limited in my two-room shack. Maybe if I exercise every day, I can get strong enough to try and bust through a door, or a window, or something. There’s got to be some way out of here. I’ve got a life to get back to – parents, a girlfriend, school. I can’t die here. I’m not ready to die yet.

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