I give up. I may seem fickle in my hope and my feelings, but I give up. I don't know how many days it has been since I last had this thought. I have been trying to track movement above me or any voices outside of my door, but there is nothing to be heard. The only sound I hear is when the bad man comes into my room and plays mercilessly with me. He doesn't seem to care when I scream or beg him to stop. He continues going and going and going. Nothing I do deters him. He does bring me water every time he sees me. I drink about half the glass and give it back. I don't want to make myself sick and expand my bladder too much. I still don't know the last time I ate, considering my body's state of skin and bones, I can only assume it was before I was captured and who knows how long ago that was. Well, probably everyone aside from me knows, but that is beside the point.
I don't know why he insists on visiting me every night. I take back what I previously said, I don't like when he comes in here. The company I get from him isn't worth it. Either way, I am losing my sanity.
I've said it plenty of times before, but I think I am finally done trying to save myself. There is no way to save myself. I am not Liam Neeson from "Taken," and I never will be. To try is to fail and I cannot handle another failure. Maybe I am just meant to be in this life, to suffer like this. Maybe I did something awful and that is why I am here. The moment I think this, I know I am wrong. I am here, not because of something I did, but because of something He did. The same guy who I cannot remember for the life of me. No matter how hard I try, no matter how many times he calls me a pretty flower, I cannot remember him.
Maybe I don't want to remember him. If he did something so bad that ended me up here, maybe he was just a bad guy who I somehow managed to associate myself with. Now I am paying for his mistakes. Sometimes I wish I never knew him. Sure, I may have loved him in my previous life, if he was indeed my boyfriend, but is all this hurt and pain really worth it? A small quiver of my heart passes through my chest. Some part of me knows that he is worth it. I just wish I was able to remember why.
I wonder if he remembers me. Is he looking for me? Does he care that I was captured and am being tortured because of a mistake he made probably before he knew me?
What if they captured him too? What if they took anyone associated with him and that is why no one has found me yet? That could be a possibility, but if I am right, then we are all doomed. No one is going to come looking for me and if they took everyone who is related to Him then we really are in trouble.
Either way, I give up. What is the point of continuously fighting when it gets you nowhere? I don't know why, but a hamster running on its wheel all day floats in my mind. Why do they always run? What are they hoping to achieve by running on the same wheel all day long? Are they trying to get out of their cage, hoping that if they run enough they will be able to break through their confinement?
I haven't been running, but I have been trying to break out of the binds restraining my wrists and ankles. I don't dare look at my wrists, I already know what they look like. I feel the way they look. Wet and dry blood flows down my arm and scabs continuously itch, but the part that is raw bothers me the most. It is constantly burning, anything that touches that part of my wrist irritates the broken skin and makes it bleed.
My back is starting to heal, I can bear putting it against the back of the seat, and the thin material that is considered clothes no longer irritates the open skin. Sometimes if I have an itch, I can even mildly scratch it against the splinter-ridden chair.
As for the rest of my body, I feel fine. The bruises hurt and I know multiple areas on my body are swollen, but the pain in my wrist assuages the rest of it. Honestly, by now, I am used to most of the pain. I can't recall the last time I didn't feel pain. That fact used to bother me, but it doesn't have such an impact anymore.
While I may have accepted my new life, it doesn't mean I miss things from my old life. I wish I didn't miss graduation. I wish I didn't miss getting a permanent job at my internship. I wish I had made a friend, besides Him, before I graduated. I wish I had a family who was proud of me and was there to watch me graduate and to gossip with. I wish I could do everything all over again and prevent my parents from driving that night. My life wouldn't have been great if that happened since we were all distant anyways, but I wouldn't be in turmoil possibly for the rest of my life.
I sound like a broken record. I know I do, but what else am I supposed to think about while in a dark, dingy basement? I still don't know if this is a basement.
I really don't know much of anything these past couple of days, weeks, maybe months. It's frustrating. I want to know something. Just one thing.
You're never going to get out of here.
One thing aside from that. I have accepted that fact, but I would like to know something else. It would be nice to know the man whose mistakes I am paying for. If I can have nothing else, that is what I would like to know the most. But no matter how hard I try to think of him, all I can hear is "pretty flower" and all I can see are intertwined fingers. It is starting to drive me insane. Each time there is a pang in my chest and I feel like I am missing something important from my life.
I wonder how important he was. I mean, why would I constantly be thinking about him? I don't really know what I should be thinking about, but why would I be thinking about him? Thinking back to a couple of days or weeks ago, I'm grateful that I can hold a thought. I think by limiting what I was worrying about and trying to accomplish in a restrained mind, I am able to hold more thoughts together and string ideas that are coherent. And even though I don't want to, I am grateful that this man is making me think. He works similar to therapy, slowly sharpening my mind by giving me a little exposure to my memories. Granted, I wish I could be flooded with my memories, but I will take my little flashes of a random cabin in the woods and picnics that I have been on. I don't know when or with who, but I know I have been on more than one picnic this year.
My favorite thing to remember is this feeling of freedom and extreme happiness. I don't know why I felt that way, but I know the feeling. It's as if I'm not locked in here anymore. At those times, I feel like I'm in the same situation as I was in when I felt it for the first time. Of course, I can't recall what that situation was, but all I know is that I want to be back there.
And no matter how much I tell myself that I have accepted my situation, I still have hope that I will feel like that again. Like I will still see the mystery man again. Like I will be able to go on a picnic again and see that cabin. Hope floods through my veins like it does every few moments and I truly feel like I will be able to do all of those things again.