6. Depression
The next night I sat slumped against the end of the dark bed, in the dark room, in the dark castle, in the dark world. There was no escape; I was damned to this hell forever. What was the point of even trying to go on? Maybe if I just sat here long enough I would die. I didn't know if I could die anymore. Maybe I was already dead. I stared blankly ahead at the wall. It was all so pointless, so futile. I never wanted to leave this room again. I would just sit here until I rotted away and was gone from this nightmare at last. What did it matter? Nothingness would be far better than this. I had no will anymore, no spirit, no life.