Short Prologue
It's cold, the kind of cold that eats into your bones and dives you mad. No wonder Ivan is so batshit crazy, who wouldn't be after living centuries in this mind numbing cold.
I don't know how long I've been here, this place he has me in has no windows, not even furniture: Just pale walls yellowed with age, a bed and a bathroom. There was a chair but I managed to smash it over Ivan's head when I first got here.
How long ago was that again?
I don't know what day it is, or have any idea how long I've been here. Days, weeks it's all the same the only light is from the bare bulb dangling from the ceiling, and the only thing I can hear is the near constant wind howling outside. I don't mind it anymore; it lets me know I'm still alive. But I can't tell if it's day or night out there. It could be midnight; maybe it is midnight on the west coast right now, midnight in San Francisco with the stars flickering over the golden gate bridge. I wonder if the bridge is still standing, I wonder if anything is still standing. I want to scream but there's no point to it, my voice is already worn out from screaming.
I swear to god Ivan I will find a way to fucking kill you for this!
Whether you like it or hate it, I'd love to hear from you and what you think.