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Writing For The Mentally Disturbed 101.1
written by: RayFed
The room was dark. Seems silly to think about that now. It had always been dark in there. Ever since he was trapped in this godforsaken place but he kept thinking and he didn't know why.
What was the point? Maybe it was boredom or maybe he was trying to remember something important. Remember what? What was the point of remembering, because he knew he wasn't getting out this time?
His name, his job, his life gone. All because of this room. This damn room.
What the hell had he done to deserve this fate?
Where is the door?
Why try. It's locked, and you know it is.
Maybe someone would hear him if he'd scream.
The walls are thick and padded you, idiot. Nothing was getting out or in.
He had to do something.
He kept thinking..........