Standing in front of the mirror made my heart sink. Not only were my roots coming through, there was a single, gigantic pimple right in the middle of my forehead. Twenty-one years old and I was still getting pimples.
"So I've been here for three weeks, huh?"
The days had begun to blend into one big time loop where I neither knew what day it was or cared to know what time it was. There was a clock on the bedside table, but I never looked at it for dramatic purposes. There wasn't a calendar in here so I had no way of knowing what day it was. At first, I started counting from my birthday, but then having nothing to do made me sleep longer hours so that completely threw me off.
My days were spent trying to crack the little keypad behind my bed's headboard and watching television or going down to the kitchen to eat. I was rapidly gaining weight, and it was all making me depressed. I missed my home, I missed my dad and friends, and most of all, I missed my Krav Maga instructor.
