[action!|blog] Day 2: the tomato quadrille
[If possible, the two days of isolation have made Alfred small. His cheeks have already lost the flush they are used to and his hair is dank. He sits curled against a corner most of the day, tired blue eyes watching the camera. Sometimes, he snaps from these musings and writes but the thoughts are always disjointed, never quite there.]
There was food today… I tried to stay awake, thought maybe I could take the person on but I got too tired and I fell asleep… Sleep’s all I can really do except pace but that’s not doing it either.
The walls just get closer the more I move.
[overhead, the lightbulb dims for a moment and Alfred feels his heart seize, throat constricted. It glows back to life and he still watches it, as if his eyes aren’t quite registering the glare. Alfred is starting to hate the dark.]
I watch the green light a lot. It watches back. The camera’s stopped taking pictures. I tried unplugging it but the stupid thing wouldn’t come loose. I put my backpack in front of it but… Even then I still knew the light was there.
The food was… not much: bread, water and a sliced tomato. The tomato worries me. I remember reading journals from that Spanish guy (Antonio? Andre? Something…) and he likes them… So it got me thinking, he was close to that one guy I ran into a Mickey D’s… Have I been kidnapped for yelling at some Italian?
[Alfred pauses then quietly scribbles down one word, circling it.]
Mafia?
In Liberty City? I think I’m… It’s possible, isn’t it? I don’t know if my imagination is overworking or for the first time in years it’s slowing down and I’m starting to think rationally. It’s frustrating. Mafia… I should check into it… If I get out of here.
[there are musings written in a messy script, the name ‘Vargas’ barely distinguished, as if Alfred wasn’t really watching what he was writing, but watching something else. The first legible line reads:]
Like the green light. It never turns off.
I’m starting to miss Arthur’s cooking. I actually just kinda miss Arthur… Isn’t that weird? Like… all the glares across the dinner table, the quips, the arguing… Hell I miss Dewi and his singing at 3am… It sucks. I-I know I shouldn’t be missing them but I just...
I’m starting to get a nasty cough. Hope it goes away soon.
The green light’s still on.
[then in small, almost invisible, writing tucked into the margin of the page]
Ivan tells me that I shouldn't be scared of the dark. Says I’m safe there. I don’t believe him.
Ivan lies sometimes.
There was food today… I tried to stay awake, thought maybe I could take the person on but I got too tired and I fell asleep… Sleep’s all I can really do except pace but that’s not doing it either.
The walls just get closer the more I move.
[overhead, the lightbulb dims for a moment and Alfred feels his heart seize, throat constricted. It glows back to life and he still watches it, as if his eyes aren’t quite registering the glare. Alfred is starting to hate the dark.]
I watch the green light a lot. It watches back. The camera’s stopped taking pictures. I tried unplugging it but the stupid thing wouldn’t come loose. I put my backpack in front of it but… Even then I still knew the light was there.
The food was… not much: bread, water and a sliced tomato. The tomato worries me. I remember reading journals from that Spanish guy (Antonio? Andre? Something…) and he likes them… So it got me thinking, he was close to that one guy I ran into a Mickey D’s… Have I been kidnapped for yelling at some Italian?
[Alfred pauses then quietly scribbles down one word, circling it.]
Mafia?
In Liberty City? I think I’m… It’s possible, isn’t it? I don’t know if my imagination is overworking or for the first time in years it’s slowing down and I’m starting to think rationally. It’s frustrating. Mafia… I should check into it… If I get out of here.
[there are musings written in a messy script, the name ‘Vargas’ barely distinguished, as if Alfred wasn’t really watching what he was writing, but watching something else. The first legible line reads:]
Like the green light. It never turns off.
I’m starting to miss Arthur’s cooking. I actually just kinda miss Arthur… Isn’t that weird? Like… all the glares across the dinner table, the quips, the arguing… Hell I miss Dewi and his singing at 3am… It sucks. I-I know I shouldn’t be missing them but I just...
I’m starting to get a nasty cough. Hope it goes away soon.
The green light’s still on.
[then in small, almost invisible, writing tucked into the margin of the page]
Ivan tells me that I shouldn't be scared of the dark. Says I’m safe there. I don’t believe him.
Ivan lies sometimes.