Celia
I can only assume that a week has gone by from the way that the world goes from loud to quiet all around me. I am locked inside of one of the various rooms inside my father's old and run down manor in the woods. The windows have been sealed shut, curtains, hiding the sunlight that should be coming through the window, my legs chained to the table in the middle of the room.
There is no way for me to tear down the blacked out curtains to see and watch as time passes me by, leaving me to find more clever ways to pass the time. I'm trapped inside my father's old office. On the desk sits photographs of him and my mother, hands connected, and their smiles as bright as ever.
The room makes me miss them more than I could ever imagine. I wonder what they would think, knowing that their daug
