A cough. Is it mine? I don't know; I don't care. Silence. Only breathing. Is it my own? I can't answer. I look, but don't see; I listen, but don't hear; I scream, but am not hear; I touch, but do not feel; I cry, but no tears fall; I live, yet I am dead inside.
Flashbacks of my life appear, on a slideshow in my mind. But I can't make out the pictures, or the captions. All I see is death, hunger, thirst, fear, pain, hurt.
How many days? I can't remember. A pain grows deep inside of me. Not in my empty stomach, but in my empty head.
I steal a glance at the door. I don't waste my time trying to escape; I know the door in locked.
Sometimes, I swear I hear things. But is it just my imagination? There's no telling.
My breath gets lighter, and lighter, til it's nearly gone.
And my mommy's last words echo through my head: "I do it out of love," and the door clicks shut.
I feel myself falling, til my breath is no more.
And for once, all I see is light.