“Six thousand, one hundred and sixty-nine.”
My voice is fainter than a whisper. My breath puffs out in a white cloud like smoke; eerily bright in the darkness of the room. My teeth chatters; the only sound inside.
I’m awake; I’m alive; I must remember this, even if I don’t want to. Even if everything in me is begging to shut down.
I’m cold. I’m so very, cold.
“Six thousand, one hundred and seventy.” I continue to count the seconds.
This number equals almost one hundred and three minutes; almost two hours since I’ve woken up in this freezing room. This dark room. Call it what I may, it doesn’t change it’s nature as a torture chamber.
Four walls of steel with temperature controls; cold enough to solidify the blood in your veins, or hot enough to boil it.
Soundproof so the screams stay
