Alone

A Story by Lil.Sis5

Whats worse than dying? Dying alone.

The room’s darkness and musty smell brings me to reality. The chain digs deeper into my ankle the more I struggle. I gave up trying to escape hours ago. The room smells of mold and decaying flesh. It burns my nostrils and devours my lungs. I haven’t eaten nor have I gotten a bathroom break. My stomach quivers for food and my body has started feeding off of its self. I don’t know how long I’ve sat in this dungeon. “I hate it here.”, the last thing I said to my parents. Now alone, cold, wet, and starving, I wish I had never said it. Dying is awful, but dying alone….the worst thing in the world. My skin stretches over my bones like plastic wrap over a bowl. I can count every rib. My heart starts to race and my lungs start to expand less. Breathing hurts, so I try to keep it shallow, but my lungs scream for more. Finally, tired of pain and hunger, I curl myself in like an origami and sleep. I bright light awakens me and I feel no pain. I feel no hunger. Freedom now awaits me.