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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7. Chapter Seven

13th - June - 2013

 

Dear Reader, 

They want me to try every suffering way there is. Pain isn't enough, apparently. They decided itching would be quite bad too, and I agree with them. 

They dragged me this morning and decided to take me to a place I've never seen before. Another cell, this one though, was filled with strange plants. I was allergic to half of them if not more than the half, and they kept on rubbing my skin with those apparently poisonous plants. With the still unhealed scars, things were worse. My body wasn't only itchy, the thing is, each time I itched it, my stomach and its scars started bleeding. Causing both itching and pain. I don't fight anymore. I think I give up. I want to continue having this until I die. It's okay, I want to die now. 

I remember sometimes my life. My parents, my friends, my grandmother. When I feel like living, I only feel it because of them. For them. That's all I want of life. If I was to live, I would't even live for myself. If this experience taught me anything at all it's that I don't have to take life too seriously. Here came a day that I don't care about my look or how I smell, or my grades, or my future. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing but the people I love. 

The strangest thing, and probably the best that's happened this day, is that in my way to the plants cell, I found some other cells. Actual other cells with actual live people in them. Some looked like mine and some looked better. I finally saw them, I knew there were some other people here! 

Knowing for sure someone else is here actually got me a bit happy and hopeful. I'm not in this alone. Then it made me feel guilty for feeling happy that other people are suffering just like me. I shouldn't be feeling like this. 

Still, I couldn't take my mind off of the fact that there are others here.

Like me.

With me.

 

 

 

17th-June-2013

 

Dear reader, 

My bald head started growing out some little tiny hairs by now. The Peace Takers decided to burn it. 

Literally. Literally burn my head. 

They thought this cell wouldn't be enough for this shit, so they decided to take me to some other cell. How many freaking cells do they have in this place? I don't know. Many, many cells. I can't count them, I don't want to count them and I won't count them. In my way, I saw one of those bigger cells. Their doors were like jail doors, the cells themselves were jail cells, so I could see the people in there. Most of them were on the ground on laying somewhere, on a thing that looked like a bed. I couldn't see anyone's face - except one in one of those cells. 

They told me to look down but I couldn't help it. 

There was a girl there, the only one not laying on the ground. She sat there drawing something on the ground. Drawing birds and birds. I couldn't tell what she was using, of course it couldn't be a pencil, she must have found something rusty like me and used it. She didn't look like a prisoner, she definitely didn't look like a prisoner of the Peace Takers. She looked like a girl who's lost in her thoughts, just trying to have some fun. She looked tough too, I could tell by the way she sat there, not laying like the others, but that was all I could tell. That's all I saw of her. 

They threw me in a room and brought something that looked like a long lighter, the one I used to use for the oven. Indeed it was a lighter. They turned the fire on and started burning my head. I didn't give a damn about my hair now, the burning smelled terrible and I didn't even care. All I cared about is that my head was really hurting from the fire. Burning, burning. I needed ice, anything cold. I needed anything.. I managed not to faint though, and was soon dragged to my room. This time I was too exhausted to raise my neck and look at the girl's cell. No matter how bad I wanted to do it. 

It's not because she's a girl. I never was this guy who always looks at girls and likes whoever girl he sees. I'm picky, and I find most girls kind of - silly. It's just that this girl showed me in the two seconds that I saw her in how tough she is, and how she didn't give a damn about this whole prison she's in. All she wanted to do was draw. And that's all she did.

And all I want to do it write. I should keep writing. I'd appreciate your reading. 

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