The bolded words had to be used in this order!

I have been in the basement for as long as I could remember, though I can’t remember very much. 

Always cold, always lonely, with people only ever entering to silently slide me food that could barely be classified as edible. Nothing to do but to eat, sleep, and dream of what it would be like outside of the basement. When I was younger, things were slightly better. The people sometimes brought me gifts to end my screaming wails. Tops to spin, bubbles to blow, I could keep myself soothed. But at 20, the only time I find myself screaming is when I sleep, and they know a child’s toy won’t help with that. 

Sometimes I think I do it to remind myself what my voice sounds like. I’ve thought about talking to a wall, just so I can talk, but telling a brick that “I am nervous” only made me more nervous for my sanity. One of my many reminders that I need to get out, to escape. I can’t keep watching the slime on the ceiling drip down or to the flies to slowly die and feeling a faint sense of envy once they’re gone. 

I can’t say that I haven’t tried to escape. But there is no key, or even a keyhole on my side of the door. No windows, and when the people enter the room, I have no way of taking them out. A girl fed only enough to keep her alive has no chance against a grown man double her weight. But still, there must be a way out, and I know I must find it soon.