*Edited Sept. 16, 2017 (First published June 23, 2015)

I'm not sure how long I sat there, drowning myself in the darkness of my mind. It could have been simply a few hours or it could have been weeks. It didn't matter either way though since nothing seemed to be any different for me than it was the first day I was put in here. The only thing that altered for me was the amount of useless garbage I seemed to recall now. I highly doubt that knowing how to make triple chocolate chip cookies or the best way to blend colors to create the perfect mauve would get me out of this cell. Not that I had anywhere to go if I did get out. At least, not that I could remember.

So I continued to sit there, almost motionless as I slowly scanned my eyes from side to side. After this long, even my eyes had adjusted to the nearly complete darkness of my room and I had memorized every inch of its contents. The only change that ever took place in here, was how much dust grew to coat everything, even myself. I think I had stopped really moving more than my eyes weeks ago, based solely on how much dust I had covering my body and how stiff my joints felt when I tried shifting slightly to one side or the other earlier today.

At least I think it was today. It might have been yesterday or the day before. It's all blurring together so much right now. Maybe I've been in here too long by myself. I don't know why but suddenly this whole situation seems funny and I find myself pulling stale air into my lungs, just for it to escape in dusty, croaking laughter. I think the most unexpected result, other than the sound itself, was the soft gasp I heard on the other side of the door. It seemed to take forever to turn my head as the sound of the lock clicking open filled my ears, followed by the creak of the door cautiously opening once more after so very long.

It was a different figure that stepped inside, smaller than the other one I had seen. No star filled pools of night peered out at me. Instead, I was looking up into a pair of pale gray eyes that seemed filled with curiosity. I think I must have closed my eyes for a bit because the next thing I saw was a chipped clay mug filled with liquid being held out in front of me. I slowly reached up to grasp at the mug, bringing it to my lips as I gulped down the contents and nearly sighed at the feeling of cool water rushing down my throat. I hadn't felt thirsty but that obviously didn't mean anything, based on how I now longed for more.

I nearly cried out in joy when I saw pale hands tip a canteen over the mug, refilling it as quickly as I had emptied it. I took a slow sip before whispering out a broken thanks to the person, lifting the cup again afterward and sipping from it with a small smile on my lips. When I looked up again, I was alone and the door had been shut. On the ground in front of me sat the canteen. Maybe it wouldn't be so long before someone came back again. And with that thought, I began to slowly shift my body and stretch muscles that had been left unused for far too long.