Chapter 1
Shards of glass flew through the air, alongside a splash of scarlet blood. The boy looked down at his now gashed hand, wondering why, yet again, he couldn't feel any pain. Deciding to worry about that later, he made his way into the other room, all the while doing his best to notice the sharp blades digging into his bare feet. He sat down on the bed, the only piece of furniture in the strangely featureless room and noticed the questions that were scrawled upon the wall. He remembered that he was the one who had written those words, how long ago, he did not know. But he knew that there was a reason he wrote them, and that reason was that they were the only things that could keep him from going insane.
He read the first, "What is your name?"
"I honestly don't know."
"How old are you?"
He glanced down at his naked body for a moment before replying, "Early teens."
"How long have you been here?"
The boy was getting impatient with his apparent lack of memories, "How the fuck should I know?" he spat angrily.
A large thud came from behind the boy. Looking over his shoulder, he noticed that his box had arrived, as they did every morning. He got up from the bed and walked casually over to the box. Opening it, he found the same thing he always found. Clothes. He had no need for them, as temperature did not exist in this world. Food and drink. His body required no sustenance in this world so he cast them aside. The package. He needed that. Every day he received a package and everyday he killed himself with its contents, only to awaken the next day as if nothing had happened.
He was trapped. Trapped in an endless cycle of life and death. He set about bludgeoning himself with the mace he had found inside the package, knowing full well that his efforts were futile. The walls were painted a new shade of crimson as the whole world went black.