Acquired from Unsplash.com
Light leaked through between the curtains once a day for the slow count of 725, twelve minutes. Food showed up around 7,000 seconds later. She couldn’t reach the curtains, chained to the wall as she was, to pull them wider, but the food came through a slot in the door. The door was still marred with her bloody handprints from beating against it her first week.
They never collected the paper plates or the three bottles of water that came through with the food. No one appeared or talked to her since she woke up here three hundred and twelve days ago according to the scratches she made on the wall. A few of the foods provided had bones, which could be used to cut the bottles.
It’s been slow going, but she had dug one of the chains out of the wall and the other was about to crumble to her will.
(words 153; first published 4/30/2022 – created for a Facebook writer’s group weekly photo prompt – aim was 50 words, I went over)