One minute, I'm walking to lunch with my friends, the next minute, I'm here. I don't exactly know where here is, but I do know it isn't at school. I don't even know if I'm alive or dead. I do hope I'm still alive, though, because if this is what heaven is like, it sure wasn't worth dying.
Of course, I'm getting ahead of myself. If I do make it out of here (wherever "here" is), I want to make sure that I remember as much about myself as I can. My name is Lucas Mathews Rayson. I have curly black hair, brown eyes, glasses, dimples, and a smile. Usually (as of late, it's been kind of hard to smile). My parents are... crap. It's already begun. I know I have parents, but I should remember their names. Why can't I remember them???
I should've kept writing yesterday. I might have remembered more. Either way, I need to concentrate on writing what I do remember.
I'm currently in high school (don't remember what year or how old I am. Great), attending... some high school. I have friends. There was Ren (I think she might have been my girlfriend), Jacob (we had been friends for years, I believe), and Fallen (she was a close friend.. I think).
The day that everything changed, I had been walking to class with Ren (it was a school day). I had my arm around her, and... something happened. I don't remember what, it hurts my mind every time I try to remember it. But the next thing I knew, I was here. Strangely enough, I still was wearing my jeans, grey t-shirt, and black jacket (I'm still wearing them now) and I still had my laptop bag, but I was somewhere I had never been before. I still am.
It occurred to me this morning that I should describe where I am, in the rare chance that someone else finds my writings. So I have decided to write about my early days here, and explain this place.
After getting over the shock of what had happened, I began to take in my surroundings. I was surrounded by four plain white walls, with a smooth, cold, white tile floor under my feet. Above me, a smooth ceiling met my eyes, a single fluorescent light breaking up the white surface. In fact, it was one of only three things in the room. Tucked into the far corner of the room is a metal bed, a white mattress, sheet, and pillow "tastefully" arranged on it. I currently sleep there and have all my stuff over there as well. In the opposite corner of the room, attached to the ceiling, is a black security camera. It's always on, watching me. The red blinking light is always there, the lens always focused.
Someone is on the other side of that lens, and I want to know who.
For the first few days, I tried as hard as I could to find a way out of here. I spent hours upon hours crawling along the floor, feeling every single inch of wall, trying to find anything that could help me, anything that could be a possible means of escape.
I never found anything.
There were many times when I broke down. Sometimes, I would yell at the camera and whoever was behind it. Other times, I'd just cry, holding myself and begging that same camera to let me go. I didn't sleep or eat those first few days, and eventually, I passed out from exhaustion. When I awoke, there was a small tray of food in the middle of the room. Nothing fancy, just a glass of water, an apple, and a piece of bread, but I devoured it like it was a full steak. It gave me the energy I needed to keep going.
This began a cycle that I would repeat for the first week here. I would search like a madman, trying to find any possible way out. I'd exhaust all my energy and collapse on my bed, falling asleep for hours. When I awoke, there would be that same tray of food again. I'd eat it, and the cycle would begin again.
I was a prisoner.
To say that my first week here was only a week would be an assumption. As the light in the room never went off, and as I had no way to keep track of time, I'm only making a rough guess as to how long those cycles lasted. I only began to count the days after I remembered my bag.
When I had arrived here, I still had my laptop bag with me, and if it hadn't been brought here with me, I don't know if I would've survived as long as I have. Much of what I've managed to do up to this point is partially due to what was contained in it.
After I had eaten another meal, I had noticed it partially tucked under the bed. I quickly ran over to it and opened it, dumping its contents onto the bed. The first two things that fell out were my laptop and cell phone. This brought some hope back to my escape, but it quickly vanished when I discovered that there wasn't any wifi, Bluetooth signals, or cell service that I could get in my prison. However, they both proved useful in determining what day and time it was. The second thing that I found in my backpack was a watch my friend had loaned to me before I was taken (I don't remember who). I was able to sync it with the time on my phone and laptop, and I still use it to keep track of the time here. I'd use my laptop and phone, but as there is nowhere that I can charge them at, I decided to turn them off, only turning them on for emergencies.
The last three things I found proved to be some of the most useful things of all: a pen, a notebook, and a blue marker. To someone else, they might not have seemed like much, but they are the three things that have helped me the most here. I use the notebook and pen as ways to write down thoughts, ideas, plans, and anything else I can think of. It helps me to get my mind off this problem. I've also begun to use it as a journal, writing down everything that's happened here. The marker, I use to draw with. I started by drawing in the notebook, but after a few days decided to draw on the walls. The moment I had finished drawing something on the wall, I had color back in my world! It was the best moment of the week.
Every day, I've added something to the wall with my marker, and at the end of each day, I write in my journal. Aside from that, I think. I've had lots of time to do that. I think about my friends, my family, and me.
But usually, I'm thinking of ways to escape.
Something scary happened to me today.
It wasn't what happened that scared me; it was what didn't happen. I woke up knowing where I was. That might not sound like much, but it terrified me.
I spent some time looking at pictures of my friends and me on my phone. I know I shouldn't have done it. There isn't any way to charge it, and the battery is starting to get low. But I needed to see the faces of my friends again. I had to remember them.
But the longer I looked at them, the more I realized that I was looking at the past me. I couldn't go back, and I might never go back. That was the me that once was. Now, I'm nothing more than a caged animal, always being watched.
I always write with my back to the camera. I don't want them to see. I don't want them to know what I say.
The light never goes out.
How I wish it would.