It’s been three days since they buried me alive.

They did it in the most humane way possible, really. A cube, six feet square. LED lights that should last for months on the batteries they left. Enough water and rations and oxygen to last me a week, maybe two.

And I can’t forget the walls! Plexiglas. I can see straight through, layers of dirt surround me on every side. I spent a day staring out through the plastic at the unwelcome browns and grays. I wondered how any human being could ever condemn someone to something like this, without a single way to murder yourself until the cage claims your soul.

I think they want me to go mad before I die. That’s all they wanted. The knowledge I’d go insane long before I perished.

They won’t get the pleasure.

They gave me a week of life they shouldn’t have. I could cry. I could bang my head silently against the wall. I could refuse water or food.

I won’t.

I’ll spend it working out a way to survive.