Long enough that I start to wonder if maybe I've been forgotten. That I start to wonder why I'm the only one down here. They've got others, they have to, so where are they keepin' 'em? I start to wonder, and inevitably, I start to worry. About what's gonna happen, what the fuck they're plannin' on doin' with me, what the fuck kind of asshole my pretty little ass is gonna get sold off to, what the fuck's gonna happen to all the others, and more importantly, what's happened to Mike and Tom.
The last hour, I've been searching every goddamn corner of this cellar, looking for a way out. Running my fingers over the dirty bricks, crouching in corners, peering through the tiny slit under the door. A fucking hour before I let out a frustrated groan, kick the plate of food splattered on the floor with my foot and pace toward the center of the nearly pitch black room, hands fisted at my sides.
And that's when it starts. Shouting, at first. Not angry or excited like last time. Frantic, afraid. Scrambling feet overhead, the doors upstairs bang open and closed, and right around the time I hear someone yell Fire! I think maybe I smell smoke.
no subject
Long enough that I start to wonder if maybe I've been forgotten. That I start to wonder why I'm the only one down here. They've got others, they have to, so where are they keepin' 'em? I start to wonder, and inevitably, I start to worry. About what's gonna happen, what the fuck they're plannin' on doin' with me, what the fuck kind of asshole my pretty little ass is gonna get sold off to, what the fuck's gonna happen to all the others, and more importantly, what's happened to Mike and Tom.
The last hour, I've been searching every goddamn corner of this cellar, looking for a way out. Running my fingers over the dirty bricks, crouching in corners, peering through the tiny slit under the door. A fucking hour before I let out a frustrated groan, kick the plate of food splattered on the floor with my foot and pace toward the center of the nearly pitch black room, hands fisted at my sides.
And that's when it starts. Shouting, at first. Not angry or excited like last time. Frantic, afraid. Scrambling feet overhead, the doors upstairs bang open and closed, and right around the time I hear someone yell Fire! I think maybe I smell smoke.
"Jesus..."