you were left there for several days.

your stomach growled for nutrition.

you screamed for someone to bring you water, juice, anything.

eventually the woman came to you, gave you a syrup. 

it was salty, bitter, metallic, but it soothed your hungers.

you didn't feel full, but you didn't feel as hungry, as thirsty.

eventually, she brought in more than the syrup. she brought in a camera, a director's chair.

"stand up," she barked.

you stood up.

"take this." a syringe was tossed to you, and in catching it you fumbled, stabbing yourself.

you would have cried if you could.

she tossed a large vial of the same syrup.

"inject that into your inner arm."

you insisted that you didn't know how, you couldn't know how, but she repeated her most recent command until you somewhat figured it out.

it was messy, you screamed, you cried.

slowly, however, you felt calm. 

you felt something drain from your chest, and the last thing you saw before blacking out was that woman, folding up her chair.