It is the second day of my entrapment. I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell that a new day has begun if it weren’t for the tiny rectangular window that sits at the top of the wall. Father had barred it with wooden planks painted in neon pink years ago to stop the rodents from scurrying in and out but years of neglect have left the planks rotting with no replacement in sight.

Streams of warm morning sunlight shine through the dilapidated window and specs of dust dance in the light, swaying ever so gently without so much as a care for this world.

And as the dust dance in the air, I lay on the cold damp floor, still chained to the chair. I inhale deeply. if only life was that simple and carefree.

My head is throbbing, my arms are burning and my back is cramping. But I continue doing what I have been doing all night long. I continue to rub the chains that bind me against the chair, hoping against all odds to break free.

I try not to think about why all this happened
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