13th Piece

​This is the 11th post to the book I was talking about in my "What My Blog Is" post

I wake up in a bed. It isn't that dreamy bedroom that had the rain forest mural, the bay window, the chandelier, nothing. It was just a boring room with only a bed, bathroom, dresser, and a mirror. No windows to let in natural light, the walls are a bland gray; it seemed as though everything was that grayish color. The walls, the ceiling, the clothes that they make all of us wear... except for that one lady with the walls that turn into screens. I've been thinking about talking to her more but I’m stuck with a guard. The only space he’s not with me is my bedroom because there is no way I could possibly escape. Trust me, I've tried everything. From chiseling the walls with a knife stolen from the cafeteria -- oh wait scratch cafeteria "dining hall"-- but the walls seem like they are made of solid rock. They probably are. And the latest thing I've done is trying to sneak past my guard buddy when he's sleeping. It seems like he has something inside of his body that senses whether or not I'm sneaking out. He probably does. I flop on the foreign bed and think about the conversation I just had with Mr. Iskajif. It seemed pointless, I mean we discussed nothing, he told me nothing, I told him nothing, it just doesn't add up. The only thing I can think of is that he wanted to see me. Not see me as in talk to me but literally see me. I don't know why I hadn't done anything special in my life. Nothing that I know of anyway. I turn onto my side and I think back to the freedom, the love, the hate, the past. I think back no matter how much it hurts.