They come each night and I find it different and the same each time. I feel they are testing me, attempting to determine the limits of my abilities.
I've been in the darkness with such little light so long my thoughts have become disjointed, muddled.
My consolation is the food and every night I am allowed a decent meal in reward to my cooperation.(though I fear the consiquences if I did not submit).
Sometimes, they bind my hands and make me look, read each object presented. Sometimes my eyes are handicapped and there is only the touch. I know they want to see how and I regret to know they will not be satisfied by my own verbal accounts of the matter. It is uncomfortable and as the moments pass me by I can feel the hope slowly draining from my body. I often wonder If I am fated to die here like the hopeless prisoner before me.
-Anthem Monroe
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