30x300 by -yannik-
DAY NINETEEN
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They were making him eat. The guard was standing there, watching him, and he had to eat. It's nutritious – Neelix had said. It has the proteins, sugars. He didn't need proteins and sugars! He needed space! He needed people! He needed to talk to someone, to tell them how angry he was, how hurting. He needed someone to understand that, and set him free! Finally set him free. He asked how much longer. How many more days there were left for him to remain there? He asked how much must he eat for them to leave him alone. He asked if they could ask the Doc for psychiatric evaluation. He asked what day it was, where they were, what was the newest gossip onboard the ship. He asked if their mothers were whores. He asked what time it was. He asked for a glass of water. He received no answer. It was okay. It was how it was supposed to be. And it was different – he wasn't alone in his cell for a moment at least, so he enjoyed that. He talked, even if they didn't. Instead of eating – he talked. And they had to react, they had to remind him to eat. But it made things longer, it made them stay inside with him longer. He was not alone – longer. But it also made the rest of the day – longer. The waiting. It was stifling. Dense, damp, strung out, constricting. Restricting. Choking. Long. Long. Long. How many more days? Choking. Stifling. Breathe! Air, I need air! Let me out, let me breathe. How much longer? Just tell me how much longer! I need to breathe… I can't breathe… Just let me out… please…
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t.b.c.
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