January 17, 2012

Tuesday. Ardi's turn. He's nicer than the others, but still hated. He comes into my room with platters of delicious smelling food; chocolate, veggies, stew. He holds it in front of me and eats it, taunting me for hours.

Upon leaving, he gave me some bread. He comes twice a week. He's the only one who feeds me.

The hunger doesn't bother me anymore. At first it was all I thought about. It was so strong, I didn't care what Him was doing to me. I didn't care about the cutting Ryan performed on me. I didn't care how Jack would push my head under water till I almost drowned. In fact, I hoped I would drown. I didn't care that Josh would force glass into my skin till I bled. I didn't care that Eric would allow others to use me so he could make a quick buck. I didn't care that Stanley would have me run down the hall and try to escape his bullets as they fired at me. I didn't care how they only referred to me as, "You." All I cared about was the hunger. It overcame everything else.

That lasted the first few months. After that, I didn't mind the hunger. Now, I feel EVERYTHING. I hate EVERYTHING. I feel the pain, the knife, the glass, the water dripping into my lungs. I hate "You." I feel it all. I hate it all.