In my dream, I'm huddled in a dark room. Suddenly, I see liquid pouring out from the cracks. The liquid is blue, with swirling shades mixed in it. For a second I freeze, fear coursing through my veins, but when the blue brushes my fingertips, I immediately feel warm. The blue colours swirl around me, and wrap me in a tight embrace. I rest my cheek against it, and warmth spreads through my body. I feel heavy with sleep, and I gather the colours around me, and for the first time, fall into a deep, peaceful slumber.

When I wake up, I feel rested, and for the first time in forever; peaceful. I try to pull back the sweet dream, but instead, sharp pain in my arm forces me to move.

The blood all around my arm has dried, and I can see faint cuts underneath. I force myself to the sink, and wash the blood off my arm, wincing in pain as the icy water touches my raw skin. Beneath the blood, I find the deep cuts in my forearm, and I almost pass out when I see what they spell.

Remember. Eric carved the word REMEMBER into my forearm. I feel fear run through my veins. How am I supposed to forget now?

In my mind, blue colours swirl around, and I calm myself. I turn to where I sleep. The floor is matted with dry blood, and under the blanket, I find the knife Eric cut me with. I rinse the blood off and study the knife.

It's short, but sturdy. I turn the knife over, trying not to move my hand too much. Eric must've forgotten he'd given me a knife by mistake. This is an advantage, and I can't help but feel hopeful again. The blade has a slight blue tint to it, and I feel my heart lift as I recall the dream I had.

I'll never get close enough to Eric to actually stab him. My body is too weak, and Eric is too strong. The only way then, is to throw the knife.

I move the the end of my room, and stare at the wall in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I pull my arm back, and throw the knife. I clench my teeth as pain shoots through my wounds, and the knife clatters the the floor.

The knife didn't even stick! I gather my blanket and place it on the floor under the wall, so the knife won't make a sound when it drops. The last thing I need is Eric to find out what I'm doing.

I throw again and again, without any success. Eventually, my arm hurts too much, and I try switching to throwing with my left hand, but it doesn't work. I slump the the ground, defeated.

I stare at the knife for a while before I stuff it under my blanket, out of sight. I gently run my fingers along the cuts in my arm. They went really, really deep. They've scabbed over, but the skin around them is pink.

Will Eric come today? I shiver. I dig around, looking for food, but there's none. I must've eaten it all.

I bite my lip. I didn't remember eating my remaining apples. Did Eric take all my food away? As a punishment? I feel myself begin to panic, but then force myself to calm down. I'm not even that hungry, I tell myself. I settle down on my blankets, and fall asleep.

I wake up, and this time, my stomach is gnawing with hunger. I go to the facet, and gulp down huge handfuls of water, trying to squish down my hunger. I try the door, but as always, it's locked.

I settle down again, but end up tossing and turning. I get up, grab my knife, and begin hitting the wall again. The knife spins head over heels and hits the wall sideways before dropping to the ground.

I growl in frustration, and hurl the knife towards the wall with all my might. It sticks to the wall for a split second before falling.

I grin. At least I have a chance.

For the next few hours, I spend my time trying to learn how to throw the knife properly. I found that certain positions, angles and movements make it easier to throw, and more accurate. After ten continuous successes, I go up to the wall and mark a small x. I can now throw without the blade falling to the ground, but I'm not accurate.

After another twenty minutes or so, my arm begins bleeding again, and I hurry to the sink to clean it out. I grimace in pain, but force myself to let the water clean my wound.

Exhausted and hungry, I settle down for sleep again.

My next few days go on like this. Wake up, throw a knife, stop when my arm hurts or starts bleeding, drink water, sleep, continue.

Eventually, the pain in my stomach is too painful to bear. I haven't gone to the washroom in days; I've eaten no food!

The ache in my stomach spreads up through my stomach and into my chest. I clench my stomach in pain, groaning as it grumbles with hunger. I try to force water down my throat, but it does nothing to help my hunger.

I literally haven't had a shower in forever, and I haven't felt warm in ages.

I huddle on the floor, letting the coldness drench me, and manage to drift away again.

My sleep is far from restless, and I keep waking in pain. I try to force myself to drift into unconsciousness, because it's painless. More time passes, and I can't take it anymore.

I paw at the door desperately.

"Eric" I gasp.

No one responds. My stomach seems to have split open in emptiness; I can't go a day without a horrible stomach or head ache. I never thought I would resort to begging for food from Eric.

"Eric." I can't fall asleep anymore, I'm in too much pain. I resort to clawing at the door until my nails bleed, and croaking his name until my tongue aches.

Is this the end? Am I going to die here?

Suddenly, the door opens, and I tumble out. I look up, and stare into the face of the only man I remember, and the only man who can save me.

"Hello Tris." Eric smiles, and his dirty hands reach down towards me.