My eyes strain as they get adjusted to the bright colorless room. I look around, the room is unfamiliar. I don't know how I got here. It's small and empty except for the mattress I woke up on. I know I'm being watched, there's cameras in both corners of the room, which seems obsessive. All that I have with me is this notebook, a pen, and an empty cup. I'm wearing my own clothes, a grey hoodie, white tee and cargo pants. Basic, I know. My pockets have been emptied. Keys, wallet, grocery list, and a small drawing of a cat done by my daughter are all gone. I wish they could have at least left that. There's a small door that cannot be opened from the inside, the handle is completely gone. Broken off. I feel unusually calm, why? How long have I even been here? I looked at my wrist. Great, they took my watch too. I traced the walls for any sort of opening, button, a crack– just anything that could give me an insight. I found nothing. I don't hear a single thing. No wind or footsteps. I feel as if I'm in one of those lunatic asylums. Maybe I am? But, I promise I'm not insane. I do know I didn’t voluntarily come here. Why would I? What is this place? Who took me here?

It hasn't been that long since I last wrote. I think? My guess is that it's only been a few hours. All I've been doing is walking in circles, looking for any little thing that could help me understand where I am and why. Which is pointless of course. I've been holding in my pee since I woke up. With no sign of anyone coming, I think I have to use the cup. I haven't peed in a cup since a road trip back in college. This must be some sort of humiliation bullshit. Peeing in front of a camera? Why would anyone want to see that. I've tried calling for someone earlier and got no reply. I banged on the door and the walls for what seemed like forever. All that followed was a hollow silence, which eats at my soul more and more.