AN - Another school assignment, thanks to my English teacher who loves giving writing prompts. The prompt was the title, sorry I am incredibly uncreative in naming my stories. But anyway, this is in a very different style than I am used to. If you read my other stuff, you'll see that I usually write in past tense, and first or third person. But here, I write completely in present tense and (gasp!) second person, for the first time ever. It was hard for me to write, but I'm pleased with it. Hopefully it's not predictable (I don't know whether I'm good at writing unpredictable surprise endings). Reviews are much appreciated. ~Trinity

Locked In

You awake to find yourself in a prison. It takes a few moments to register in your mind why you are not at home with your family. But soon it dawns on you, with a clear precision, and you recall your capture of days, weeks, months ago. You haven't kept track of time since you've been in this place; it hasn't seemed necessary. Besides, you know that if you counted the days you would soon turn to despair. So you just try to survive long enough to be freed or escape. The thought of seeing your children and husband again keeps you going and gives you hope.
You recall the day of your capture, when you and your family were caught off guard by the raiders. They had transported you together, cold, frightened, and hungry, to a temporary holding cell. You had relied on each other during that time when you lived from day to day in fear, uncertain of your fate. And soon, you and your family were torn apart. You watched as your children and their father were taken away, one by one, to other prisons, afraid and alone. You were the last. When they took you away, you hoped beyond hope that they would take you somewhere where you would be reunited with your family, but it was not to be. When you saw the new cell meant for you, and that none of your loved ones were there, you fought the warden tooth and nail. But he easily suppressed your protests and threw you into your cell. You accepted defeat, but you wished that your captors had been humane enough to let you remain with your family. You would have preferred that to being free yet alone.
And now, you lay on the cold, straw-covered floor of your cell, glancing at the confining bars that surround you on all sides. Your cell is in the center of the currently dark and gloomy room, as if you were a display for visitors to the prison to ogle. You've had enough of their stares, and you can't take it any more. You can feel their eyes on you even now, when they are not in the room. Your breathing quickens and your heart races. Even though you know it is futile, you run up to the door to your cell and shake it forcefully. You scream, cry, and beg to be set free, or at least be reunited with your family. But it is no use; there is no one there to hear your pleas. You slump, defeated, against the wall, whimpering quietly. You curl your body tightly inwards and ponder your situation.
You have not eaten for at least a day, probably more. This would not be a problem, except your dish of water has empty since that time, and your throat is dry and in pain. You suddenly regret all the screaming you have just done, because now your throat is much more sore than before.
You decide that it would be best for you to look on the bright side of your situation, difficult as it may be. You suppose that one good thing about being denied food and water is that you are not surrounded by your own excrement. You have not needed to relieve yourself for quite a while now. Over the time you have been here, your cell has only been cleaned two or three times. This has left you to wallow in your own filth. But now, your cell is somewhat clean, and this can be explained by the churning and growling of your stomach. Conscious of your body's demands, you sit and wait for the door of your cell to open and for a bowl of food to be shoved in. But no one enters the room; no one brings you food. Finally, resigned that you will not eat today, you decide to go back to sleep. It will help you pass the time. So you maneuver yourself under some of the straw for warmth, and close your eyes.
You are jolted back into consciousness by a loud, high-pitched voice in the hall. The warden enters the room and walks toward your cell. Trying to be brave, you stand up and face him, but your shaking betrays your fear. You stand uncertain of what will happen next when the warden throws open the door to your cell and puts bowls of food and water inside. He closes the door again, and you quickly fall upon the water, and then the food. The warden laughs as you eat and drink hurriedly. You hear his voice again, but you ignore it since you are too engaged in fulfilling your body's needs to pay attention to anything but filling your stomach.
"Wow, you're weely hungwy. Sowwy I forgot to feed you, mousie."