I was soon awoken by the cell door slamming; it was a warm welcome from the outside world. My eyes fluttered for a moment to gain my awareness, I don’t have much recollection of the previous events but I am here. The plate slides across the floor; hitting the led of the slab they call my bed. I haven’t quite felt like my old self so I let the food sit, plates have been piling up for the rats to scurry away with my food.

I could pick through the crumbs they left behind but out of fear I decide its best left to the underworld of the cell. The cold slab, my bed, feels unwelcoming at the present moment but it keeps me awake so I don’t find myself in a new place. I’m constantly moved, out of sight and out of mind I suppose they think that prevents me from killing. Always thought I actually used those knives to kill my victims, though they scratched their ass when they found no wounds.

The orange jumpsuit is tight and smells of death, I was not the first to be wearing this sack of cloth and certainly won’t be the last. Crawling into myself I find more warmth then the single thread blanket they supply for me, laying in the fetal position I let my mind wonder.

Drifted off awhile ago I awake again with two loud thumps outside the door, had I done it again I thought.