Dear Reader,

Dear Reader,
If you find this, then I'll be really grateful if you read it. If you find it, you should know that you were chosen. You should know that you were sent from heaven to me, because for me, reading this would be the most helpful thing anyone can do.
I didn't know my life would change like this, reader. I didn't know things could get this bad, but it's okay. I'm still grateful, at least I have something to write with and someone to write for. Writing can really be helpful. If you're mad about something, reader, I think you should write about it, it helps.
I hope I don't make you cry, reader, because if you're reading this right now, you're special to me, and I don't like to make people cry. Especially if I care about them.
I'm sorry for what you're about to read. I'm sorry to write it.
Here's my story.
(Author's Note: The story's rated yellow because it has too much aggression in it.)

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4. Chapter Four

8th - June - 2013

 

Dear Reader, 

I wasn't able to write sooner. There's so much to say. I'm not writing on my typewriter anymore. I can't write on it. I don't have it with me. I think the "Peace Takers." took it from me and destroyed it or something. That's what they call themselves. I don't like to think about it this way, reader, so I try not to.

But it may be the truth. 

The truth is that I'm lying now on a very hard stony ground, in a room that's not bigger than my wardrobe. There's no windows in the room, there are only holes. The holes are small enough that mice keep getting in and out of them. The place is very filthy. It smells horribly, but now I don't smell anymore. I got used to it perhaps. Or it's just the fact that I smell as terrible as the room itself. 

The guys who were staring at me from the car turned out to be a kind of gang who call themselves Peace Takers. Apparently, their mission is to take peace out of the world, because they think this way everything will be better for them. They've stolen many, many kids and teenagers. My age, younger, older. There are also old men and women. I saw glimpses of them as I was taken to my grave-like room. These people had better rooms than me, they must be important or something.

My room has two things in it. A toilet seat and some toilet paper. The toiler paper had the words; Clean yourself up, filth. I didn't really clean myself up by it. I don't need to smell good or be cleaned now, because no matter how I tried I'll be neither of those. I started writing on it instead. This way I can tell you about what's happened to me and I can also spend my time doing something. 

I didn't really have a pen, but I found a rusty thing near the toilet and as I tried it, it was kind of useful. I'll write with anything I find. I will keep writing, no matter what.

 

 

 

9th - June - 2013

 

Dear Reader, 

I decided to make myself a small reminder of the number of days I'm spending here. I hope they won't be many, but I can't be sure about that. 

Those Peace Takers, they're the worst kind of people anyone can think of. They took me out of my cell today, they said they want me to be cleaned up and that I smelled like shit. They got me naked. 

They put me in a place they call the cleaning room, which normal people would consider as the bathroom. All the way they were dragging me there, because they chained both my legs and my hands so that I won't think of running away from them, they also got me blindfolded. The cleaning room was like a huge bathtub. They threw me in it and spilled some water on me. It was like a shower, because the water seemed unstoppable. At first is was freezing cold, and I started shouting, telling them how cold the water is. I wasn't and I am not exaggerating. The water was ice cold. It was so cold that after what seemed like an hour I couldn't feel my toes, I couldn't move them. I started shouting once more, telling them and begging them to make it hotter, to turn the water hotter. I thought they didn't have hot water at first, and that that's why they used cold water on me, but after my begging the water turned hot. Like really, burning hot. It was like fire on my body. My body started aching and I screamed even more. The worst part is that during this whole thing the men who dragged me here were laughing. I couldn't bare its hotness, my body was actually burning. I shouted and shouted and shouted all for nothing. I was moving in a way a fish would move when brought out of the water. I was trying desperately to get away from this water, but each time I moved, water started coming out of a different place. 

"That would teach you to be less filthy." They said after playing a game called hot and cold. One of them liked it more when the water was freezing and the other liked it more when it was burning, so the game is that they must keep changing the water's temperature from hot to cold, to hot, to cold. The game ended when I slipped and passed out. It was too much for my body and I couldn't really take it, so I would've passed out anyway. I woke up in my cell, completely naked. My body red and aching whenever I  touched anything. My head aching like it never did, for slipping and hitting the ground. 

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