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The Containment Void

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I wake up to a white void. Filled with panic, I jolt forward, seeing my body, and a white void that looks as if it stretches on forever. The floor was white, cold, and hard. I'm not injured in any way and notice I don't recognize the clothes I'm wearing, just white pants with pockets. Frantically, I empty the pockets to see the contents. A baggie with a white cracker, a vial of clear liquid, and the notepad with which I am writing on emerge from my left pocket. What frightens me, however, is the single bullet that came out of my right pocket. Next to the bullet was a freezer bag containing both a hunk of red raw meat and the pen I am using. I shudder as I pull the pen out of the bag, and hear a slimy plop as the meat settles within the bag once more. It smells disgusting, I know this smell.

The floor seems to be plastic. I don't know how, but it appears to go on as far as I can see in all directions. Maybe there are walls somewhere down the way, but I have no way to tell because everything is just white. The ceiling must be white, if there is one. I look at myself occasionally, just to make sure I can still see. I don't know how I got here, but I try not to think about that too hard because right now I just want to get out. I might be a POW, and this might be some sort of containment cell. I need to stop thinking about this. Is there an out? Of course there is, if I got in there must be a way out.

I've wandered for what feels like several hours. I don't have a clock, and without a sun in view I can't estimate time accurately. I'm thirsty now. The vial is pretty small, the contents have no smell, and it just seems like I must have it for a reason. I wonder if the risk of drinking the contents is worth it. If the contents are water, I won't feel thirsty anymore and have some more time to search for an exit. If the contents are a poison, I could die quickly or suffer immense pain while I slowly search around in here. I wonder which one of those is worse right now?

I slid and fell. There's a groove in the plastic floor here. I press against it, for some reason the groove feels so warm, quite unlike the cold of the rest of the plastic. It feels so good, but there is no time to waste. I'm going to keep walking now.

I drink the liquid in the vial. It's water, at least it seems that way for now. I ate the cracker as well, it tasted strange, and made me slightly tired, but that's fine. I put the vial in the baggie, store them in my left pocket, and continue on.

There's a rock here. Well, I call it a rock, but it's the same white plastic the floor is made of. I can't lift it, but I know it's not fused to the floor. I need to try to remember these landmarks, at the very least they prove this isn't just an empty void.

Has it been a full day since I woke up here? It feels like forever, my best guess would be 30 hours. I cry and go to sleep. Maybe I'll wake up and be back home, or at least out of here.

I'm still in the white void. I take the freezer bag out of my pocket and stare at the meat, which I think must be human flesh. It looks tasty now. I won't eat it, though. At least, I don't think I will. It might not be so bad. Comrades who have been in the war longer than I have had told me that human meat isn't so bad if it's all you have, and it's hard to get rations from home so sometimes you need to find your own food, often eating things that may be unsafe.

I found a splatter of green liquid on the floor, still wet. As soon as I saw a color I rushed towards it, slipping and landing in the puddle, splashing my pants with the liquid. I cringe, trying not to think about what this liquid obviously is. There was a bag with a cracker in it near the splatter, and it seemed to be identical to the bag I started with, although the cracker is softer, and a lighter shade of brown with dark speckles. I go to take my own bag containing the vial out of my pocket, but only the vial remained. What? Why? How? I don't have time for this, standing still makes me feel cold. I eat the new cracker, and put my vial into the new bag. This new cracker is different from the first one, it's sweet and doesn't make me tired. I think about how the splatter of green on my pants makes it look like I was stabbed, before shrugging the thought away and slinking off.

I don't know what happened. I just woke up again. I don't remember going to sleep this time. I remember staring at the green splotch on my pants as I traveled, but nothing after that. Maybe I was crying but didn't realize it? There goes my attempt to track days or time in general.

I heard a voice. A human voice. I would love to see any living thing right now, so I ignore the potential consequences and act. I rush in the direction I heard it in, and realized it was coming out of a big hole. I hadn't seen any holes like that so far, the groove from before was fairly small. As I approach the hole, I get the feeling something is wrong. I look into the hole, and see a white machine, imitating human speech. The voice from it is talking in a language I don't understand. I can't even reach the speaker, and if I purposefully fall into the hole I don't think I could scale the plastic walls of the hole, which must be at least four feet high.

They're mocking me.

I take the freezer bag with the meat out of my pocket. There's only a small bite of meat, but it'll have to do. I hope the bastards that put me here enjoy watching me eat this and let me go. It's probably human meat, it's bright red and the blood that oozes out when I bite into it is bizarre, and reminds me of the war. It tastes good, though. My comrades weren't wrong.

I found a wall, and can even see a door. Were they pleased with me? I go to open the door but the knob doesn't move. I try to smash the door open and I realize there's no crack under or around the door. It's built into the wall, it can't open. I start to cry, and fall asleep before I know it.

The wall is gone. I woke up, and it just wasn't there. They must have moved me. Or maybe they moved the wall? I don't care. The baggie in my pocket is gone, but the vial is still there and filled with white liquid. I slowly drink it, and don't care if it's poisoned. It doesn't taste anything I've had. it tastes fine but it's so damn cold. I wish I could find that groove again. It was warm, and I want warmth so badly right now. I miss the sun, even if it reminds me of the war.

My bottom hurts. I slip again, not paying attention to where I'm going. I look to see what I slipped over, but nothing was there. Got to keep moving to stay warm, can't stop for no reason.

This time I find a glass of white liquid and a plate full of odd crackers, just sitting in the middle of nowhere. These crackers were lighter brown with darker speckles again, and tasted better than the cracker I started with, they were sweet like the cracker near the green puddle. I see a decorated note in some language I've never seen before next to it, the words sloppy and scribbled. I just lay there eating crackers for a while, and fill my bag with the rest of them. The white liquid was still cold unfortunately, and it must be the same sweet fluid from my vial earlier. I leave behind the plate and glass, no room to carry them.

I found the green splatter again. It looks like the same one, at least. It's not wet anymore. It makes me think, and I realize my body temperature has dropped to the point where I shiver a bit if I stand still too long. I hate to sleep here, but I can't stay up at this point. I try to avoid looking at the splatter and cry myself to sleep.

I wake up, and freeze in fear as I go to start this entry. I folded a tiny bit of the last page back to keep my place, but the fold is back now and it's obvious something flipped through the pages of my book so far, several times in fact. They must want to see how I react to things like the door and the different types of liquid and crackers. They're testing me, while I sleep.

You're reading this now, right? Please, let me leave.

I go to sleep.

I decided to try and test something, but it failed. I pretended to sleep, to see if they would mess with me. I wrote that fake little entry just to see if it helps, but nobody came. If I could catch a glimpse of them, maybe I could plead to them or just know what I'm up against. I can't afford to lay still any longer, I would freeze to death if I wasn't actually asleep. Maybe they could tell I wasn't asleep? If they have hidden cameras on me they might see tiny movements or know I didn't cry, or they could even have sensors in me to see my vitals. I feel sick.

I decide to walk away from the green splatter before I start eating some sweet crackers from the plate I found the day before.

Eventually, I find the rock again. I didn't try to go this way, but I guess if I keep going I might find that groove again. I want the warmth back.

I found the groove again. It's cold now. As cold as anything else here. Why? This isn't funny, you know. Are you reading this? Did you know I wanted it back, so you took it from me? I don't have the strength to cry right now. I wish I did, I'm so tired and just want to sleep.

I kept walking, and stumbled onto a pair of pants, just lying on the ground. I go to check the pockets. In the left pocket I find two bags with cracker crumbs, and a new pen.

In the right pocket I find a gun.

I stare for quite some time. Why is this here? I don't know much about guns, but I at least know how to load them and fire them, from my experience in the war. Sometimes we stole this kind of weapon off of enemy corpses, and they were often better than what little we had, since supplies rarely came from home so our superior weapons were often out of ammunition and useless. This gun is empty. I take it with me, using the pants I found as a sort of blanket to keep me warm. They don't help that much, but maybe I can just pretend with it.

It's been maybe an hour since I found the gun. I think I'll use it. I don't like being here, it's just a cycle of pain and small hopes. I know the bullet is still in my pocket, it's just been sitting there since I got here and I can feel the weight of it. How long has it even been? This is going to be the last entry. I look at the gun one last time, and decide I can't take this anymore.

The bullet didn't fit in the gun. They must know I don't know enough about guns to recognize this sort of thing, but they also must know I recognize a gun and what a bullet is. They're doing this on purpose.

Why are you mocking me? Is it fun to see me suffer? Are you giving me odd crackers and drinks, just to watch me squirm some more? What will you do if I stop eating and drinking, and ignore your games? I'll probably starve to death before I freeze to death. I'm going to fall back asleep soon. I can't stop myself from crying, so it's inevitable.

This isn't funny. I know you're reading this. You know I won't eat any of this. Surrounding me with food and drinks while I sleep won't change my mind. I'll still freeze to death. You bastards. I'll resist the food and leave, just you watch.

I can't take it anymore, I'm going back to the food.

It's all gone now. Why? Do all POW get treated this way here? This is worse than anything my culture could ever dream up, let alone actually accomplish. I take out the bag containing the crackers, and eat a few of them before regretting it. There's only one cracker left in the bag, and I sit its bag on the ground as I think about what I must do.

I look at the pen, it has a nice sharp tip. I'm sure I would die if I stab myself hard enough with it. Is that my only answer? Please, if you're reading this, don't make me do it. Let me go, or let me die peacefully. I can't stop myself from crying, and the salty tears lull me back to sleep.

I'm awake again. I don't know how long I slept, but it must not have been long. They clearly read these notes, because they stole my writing pen. Thank the heavens I found a spare earlier, they must have forgotten that detail. This pen is just as sharp as the one I've been writing with before now. I can't fall back asleep, I can't cry. I can't give them another chance to deny me my sole exit from this hell. I have to kill myself before I lose the ability to.

I stab myself right between my livers, and pierce my main heart. I watch as my blood pours out, and start to laugh as the green liquid fills my vision. This puddle is just like the one I slipped into earlier. Mercifully, I start crying and the salt manages to let me drift into a peaceful sleep before I start the slow process of death by single-heart failure.

...Or, I would have, if I didn't wake up. There is so much pain. The humans must have come here and saved me from death. My torso is covered in bandages. My remaining good pen is gone. They've given me a joke of a pen, this one is soft and the tip is made of some sort of gel, I couldn't possibly stab myself with it. I've heard in my time in the war that humans have tongues to bite if they need to self-terminate. I have nothing of the sort, at this point all I can do is starve to death or freeze to death.

However, for the first time since I reached the groove, I don't feel like I will freeze to death even though I am cold blooded. There's a tiny heater next to me, with a battery meter showing 13% battery remaining. The puddle of my blood is gone, leaving a green stain. My cracker is still there, with a glass of some new sort of red liquid next to it. There's a new notebook, they must want me to keep writing after I finish this notebook.

You won't let me die, will you?

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