Sharp, sudden pain in the back of my head takes over, and the next thing I know I am trapped in a dark room, no, a storage box. I'm chained to the wall, like some kind of animal, unable to escape. Relentlessly, I struggle to break free but even then, I'd still be stuck in here.

Abandoned.

Alone.

Nauseating, the unforgiving stench of loneliness hangs in the air around me, choking me. It's difficult to breathe in such a small, enclosed space. These four walls will be the last thing I ever see and there's nothing that I can do other than wait. Wait to die. This isn't exactly how I wanted to go. I've always imagined dying old, surrounded by family, although that isn't looking likely seen as they kicked me out.

Abandoned.

Alone.

Uncomfortable, I try to move. I can't. the pain, excruciating, endless, agonising. And that's just it. Pain is all I've got left now. It hurts. But then what can I do? Nothing. I'll just have to live with it for as long as I've got left, which won't be long now. I'll have to keep wating it out.

Abandoned.

Alone.

A repulsive brown rat scurries over my hand. The sickening conditions of this box are getting to me now. The stench, the heat, the lack of air: it's enough to drive anyone crazy. I've been shaking, uncontrollably shaking, for a while now. And I think I've been talking to myself as well, although it's not as if I have anyone else to talk to, here.

Abandoned.

Alone.

I don't know how long I've been here. Time seems to have slowed right down, every second dragging out endlessly. Stuck, frozen, trapped. It's all such a mess. Seconds, minutes, hours days, weeks, months years, they all bleed into one now. It's strange. It's almost as if someone up there wants me to suffer, until the last moment, the last breath. But then maybe I deserve it, after everything. There's a lot of time to think when you're trapped.

Abandoned.

Alone.

Maybe, maybe there are things I can do, o make this less painful. Birthdays. Uncle Zak January 11th, no 12th, wait that's Sampson's. Noah first of March, it's always cold. Debs, she doesn't care, she's not a kid anymore. That doesn't matter it's still your birthday. October. But when in October? I… I can't remember; I can't remember her birthday. I can't remember her birthday.

Abandoned

Alone.

I might be abandoned and alone. But I'm mostly just selfish. Selfish for ruining things, for forgetting my own daughter's birthday and for not thinking. Mostly, though, mostly for always putting me first. Its who I am. It's what I do. And I don't think that will change. No matter how hard I try. If, and it's looking unlikely ta this point, I get out of here, I'll still be like that: selfish, twisted, unwanted. I'll still be the same. So, maybe, its best if they do leave me here to rot. Maybe it's bets if I ever see daylight again. There are all better off without me.