Italian Battalion the Fanfic

My eyelids start to gently lift as the haziness of sleep flows away from my previously limb body. I realize that it wasn't a dream, It actually happened. What will become of me? As I take a look around I only see the thick plastic encasing me with a slew of those dammed rigatoni guards lining the outside. All I can possibly do is await rescue or die. What in the hell does Barilla want with me? There has got to be a reason he hasn't killed me yet. I catch a figure approaching from a distance, there is no mistake; it's Barilla. A large frame clad in rigid rigatoni armor with a cut, yet sickeningly cocky face peering at his latest catch. He comes right up to the wall and stares me in the eye and says, "So, how do you feel after the experiment?" I start to check my body for any sort of abnormality but find absolutely nothing as I let out a soft grunt "fuck you." He grins, turns around and walks away. I don't understand why I continue to keep banging on the wall and yelling, all I really am doing is wasting my own energy.

As my eyes open up again I go make my daily tally on the wall. Today happens to mark my first week in confinement, what joy. By now the Italian battalion has got to be close, they never fail to get me out of a jam. This time I'm not entirely sure though. All I can do is continuing my passing of time; you see the guard directly in front of my cell who I like to call Ricky seems to have a problem with wearing a belt. I thoroughly enjoy counting the amount of time he pulls his pants up per shift. The shifts are split up into twice per day with 6 guards alternating guarding me. From this I can only assume that each shift is 6 hours then guards switch out. In any case Ricky is up to 19 pull ups this shift; at this rate he might break a record.

Day 23 and I still haven't seen a sign of rescue. My stomach is starting to distend, most likely due to the malnutrition. I have been sleeping a lot more recently, it passes the time. I think I'm going to go sleep right now in fact.

I scratch mark number 60 into the wall; I suppose I've been here for two months. The wall seems to be really distorted due to all the scratches. I think there is someone living inside the walls and I have no idea how to help. Perhaps if I scratch far enough in it will let him out, for now I'm going to keep digging between shift changes and see where it gets me.

My stomach is getting repulsively large and I really don't know what is going on with it, I am beginning to fear for my life, perhaps exploding will get me out of this prison. Obviously I am not going to be saved. Three months in here is just too long. I think I almost helped the man get out of the wall, he asked me to save him and in turn he will save me. I think it's a fair trade. In other news, as if there is any news, Ricky appears to have a belt now so I have nothing to do with my time. Perhaps my stomach will hurry up and end me. Really either the stomach goes or the man in the wall saves me because I can't take this anymore.

Oh my god, my head is killing me. As my eyes start to focus I notice that I'm in some kind of hospital bed. My stomach is flat? What the hell? Why is he keeping me alive, I just don't understand? Why is that doctor so alarmed looking? "NO, DON'T PUT ME BACK ASLEEP!" He is piercing my arm with a needle. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO M…"

I'm back in the cell, This needs to end.