Diary Entry no. Unknown
The reason why I haven"t placed a number in this entry is because I have lost count on the days that passed by. When I first came here, they gave me this little book to write about what goes on during the morning, afternoon, and at night. But I didn"t write a single word in this during my first few weeks here and the absence of a calendar didn"t help too.
It"s just so empty in this white room. The walls looked as if they could move closer to each other, invading every available space until I am caught in between a claustrophobic space. There"s a window at my right though, but the people here nailed it shut so that I couldn"t see the daylight. When I asked them why they do it, they answered it was for my own safety.
I didn"t speak anymore after.
As I write, I realized how deafening the silence is. A painful ringing in both my ears is making me crazy and I beg for a sound to drown it, but I know I can"t do anything about it. If I scream, they"ll come and inject me with something that makes me sleep. If I talk to myself, they will call a man in white and he will give me one of those bitter medicine that is suppose to "calm" me. I am not sure if the pills are for me to be calm in mind or to calm the stinging pain in my chest.
There it is again. This stinging pain in my chest. What is this? Why does it make me want to cry? I am so confused and scared. I want somebody to comfort me, nobody has ever came for me since day one. I haven"t seen my parents for a very long time. I want to see my friends.
...
Friends. I had friends before. Both of them were girls. I don"t really remember their faces but I know their names.
Ivy Delrah and Lucy Moretz.
The three of us were really close, nothing can ever separate us. We would go shopping together, eat together, study together. Many people would even joke if we were siblings, we joke back and say yes. I want to see them again. Where could they be? From what I remember, before I am locked here Ivy told me about her going to college. So she"s probably there.
What about Lucy? She never told us what her profession was because she was too busy getting dirt from everybody in our school. She loves to mess around and she always get in trouble for everything.
The pain came back whenever I mention about Lucy. Why am I feeling this? What happened to Lucy?
I"ll have to stop writing for now. Somebody told me it was time for lunch and I think he already slid the tray of food with the use of the cat flap in the door.
