I reawaken in a more friendly environment. The room is painted a beautiful shade of blue, and the bed I am on has white sheets. The floor is pale wood and there is a thick fur carpet in the middle of the room. There are a mirror, sink and toilet in one corner, and a desk, chair and paper and pens in another. The door is thick metal, with a little square section the size of my head at the bottom that looks like it could be slid across to make an opening. I try it. Locked. There is no handle on this side of the door either.
I am stuck, in this little bubble, all on my own. I decide it is time to find out what I look like. I walk over to the mirror, heart racing with the anticipation. I stare into the eyes of a very beat-up individual. She is pale, her right eye puffy and swollen, her cheeks bruised. She has a split lip. On inspection of the rest of her limbs, her arms are bandaged to the elbows, and spotted with bloodstains and here legs are also bandaged to the knee. Her upper arms and thighs are dotted with needle marks. Her hair is tied back in a loose pony tail, strands falling everywhere. She is worryingly thin, her ribs sticking out below her bandaged chest. The only real item of clothing she wears is a pair of soft shorts and underneath, underpants.
She is me, and I am trapped.