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Maybe a hour, or maybe a lifetime, or maybe an eternity, she had been crying. Her tears were running on her face, eroding her skin and her face, tearing the once smiling face to a cracked mouth. She never cried so much, she never cried until she gagged so it was much of a surprise when she was caught with a coughing fit. The bile inside of her empty stomach made her way through her esophagus, burning her from the inside.

She spat it out, feeling the vile taste spreading on in her mouth as she stared down the thing that just left her body. Like a deer caught in the headlines of a car, she looked at it when another spasm took her by surprise. Another round of bile was making its way up but she took action when she felt the burn. She shoved her hand inside the bag, tearing away a part of the gnawed bread and wolfing it down.

She had been staring at the celling for a while now, looking at the white, crusty paint peeling itself away. She raised her taser, closing one of her eyes to aim and stayed like that. She wanted to get use to the weight, to the sensation, to the responsability that the taser gave her. She would make sure it wouldn't go waste, that she wouldn't miss, that the person who received the shock would be deserving of it.

She thought about her main target: Iz. She'd make her pay. Everyone she killed had friends, a family, maybe a pet that wouldn't see their owners and would wonder why their best friend didn't come back. When she'll tase her, she hopes all of those people would be watching. She hopes everyone who had some kind of bad blood with the wicked ballerina would look at the screen and be happy when she would start to twitch.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to kill her, though. Part of her yearned to make her suffer but if she killed her, she would become like her, in a way. Well, not totally. She would be a killer but not a repeated one. Just an one time killer, that wasn't so bad, right? It was what she needed to get out alive too. Get a kill, be the last one standing and you go home. That's how it was.

If she killed Iz, nobody would blame her. People back at home would be happy, too. They'd see Dot as the girl who killed the murderer of their kid's friends.

Dorothy was wondering if she was losing it. Maybe staying in the same white room, laying down in the same position for a while wasn't the best idea. Sensorial deprivation was getting to her, she wanted to get up and to go for a walk but she wasn't safe outside. Inside the room, she was safe. Nobody would know she was there, nobody would see her there. If someone entered, she'd tase them and leave. The only thing that could possibly go wrong was Dot. She was the only one that could fuck it up by going bad shit.

She started to play a game with herself.


She stared at the camera, her hands around her weapon, waving it in front of the lens.

''This used to be my friend's but something... happened to her...''

She didn't know if she felt like going in details. The camera wouldn't judge her if she spoke to it. It was stuck with her in the same.

''Okay Jessie,'' she said pointing to the camera, ''to load a taser you need-''

She put her right hand inside of her bag, getting a charge out.

''This! and, obviously, a taser, duh.''

''Jessie, how are you?''

She stayed silent but Dot answered anyways.

''I'm sorry about your husband, I didn-''

She faked to be interupted by the camera then continued with a giggle.

''Oh my, don't say that! But he had it coming, so I don't think anyone will mourn him''

Dot bit the inside of her lip.

''You know, I've been like so bored lately, do you feel bored too?''

Dorothy nodded twice with an empathetic smile.

''Yeah, it's not fun here, I'd love if someone would save us, that'd be rad.''

She was done speaking to the camera. She had finish telling it every single stories she had known, every details of her life, every friendships she had made and love she had felt. She excused herself to the bathroom and came back ready to tell more stories to the camera.

Her voice was hopeful, tinted with love and care for the people she told the tell to. She knew that the camera was recording her, and she wanted it. She wanted whoever watching the video that they knew that Dorothy was a real human being with a real dream and a real pain. She wanted to make sure they knew she wasn't an actress or something. She hoped that the people watching thought it was something of a movie and they were just watching it because they were curious to check if it was true. Dot felt that if those people fell on that footage, they would listen to her rambling about her elementary school or pseudo-tutorials about loading a taser or making friendship bracelets.

If they watched a clip of her, they would know she was real.

A part of her knew that the terrorists watching would think she's insane or they would mock her when she would die with those announcement but she felt happy. She had spoken truths she would have never said back home, she told the world how she felt as if her diary was spread open and every sheets were taken off and pinned to every walls. When she would die, the world would maybe remember her and that's what made her happy.

''I think I said everything for now, so I guess tee-tee-wye-el''
me by naft
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a dr36m come true and a star to wish upon · Solitary Confinement