How did I end up here? The cold breath of this metal is whispering to the little hairs on my arm that are rising with each passing second. I'm sitting, in a chair, in a room of what seems to be a simulator of color blindness. Tick tock tick tock. Roaring silence permeates as if it were the measurement of anticipation, but what am I waiting for? I need to be here, I was told to be here and I don't want to ask why. I tilt my head ever so slightly only to see nuts and bolts of a grey wall and a tray full of bowls of sludge. It's as if my time here everyday gets wiped from my memory when I leave and everything becomes foreign again, until I hear her footsteps, and everything comes right back. 

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She prances in and breaks the nothingness with the sharp stab of her monotonous voice: "name?". Her protruding cheekbones poke the air mirroring the sting of the penetration of her acrimonious words. Her lips are pursed with one end being lifted displaying her menacing grin. The heels on the bottom of her shoes clunk as she walks towards the silver utensils on the tray which are submerged in the bowls.


Here it comes; the food. Spoons filled to the brim with mush are shoved in my mouth and I don effen haf the ability to cshooo befo I shwallo. Gulp. I'm being force fed these things I hate and I don't want to anymore. The gelid goo punches each taste bud as it slithers across my tongue and down into my throat. Forever is going by and all that's happening is the neverending motion of open, close, open, close. Close. Close. I'm closing my lips and envisioning them sewn shut because I don't want anymore food. She stops and I meet her iniquitous gaze. Her wretched fingers almost like those of a witch slowly inch towards my mouth. They hover for what feels like an eternity whilst silently demanding me to open wide, and there they go prying through the crack. They reach just far back enough for the monsters inside to claw the back of my throat in attempts to climb out. I bite down on her fingers to stop her from trying to make me regurgitate, immediately making her retract and wale. The straps around my wrist pull tighter and dig into my skin as she storms out of the room. 


What would have happened if I had just complied? I'm now stuck in this chair, in a room, all by myself. I'm tugging and struggling and wriggling my way out of this chair when out of my peripheral, I notice the strap of my right hand slowly becoming loose. I know what she wants me to do, I've done it time and time again. I need to try. I mimic the action of disgorging only to result in unsuccessful attempts. It's just like yesterday; if I do it, I can leave. The conflicting thoughts of trying flood my mind and I struggle to breathe as I drown in my own sorrow. I have to do it. 


And so I do. 


She reappears in the corner of the room with a large grin on her face and motions towards the door. I get up, step out into the fresh air to leave but with only one thought in my mind; it will happen all over again tomorrow for me just to ask myself one more time, how did I end up here?