The Monster Within
I rock back and forth, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. Over and over. They're late. They're always late. I bite my hand to keep from crying out. It's a better alternative than screaming. They've long since stopped caring. Finally. Finally. Finally. The small sliding door opens and the tray slides into my dark prison cell, accompanied by a straw. I finish quickly as a guttural cry escapes my throat without my permission. It's not enough. Never enough. I used to beg, banging at the door until my hands bled but they don't care. They've never cared. I pace the small confines of the room, back and forth, almost insane with need. All I'm asking for is a little more. Can't they do it just one time? I banish the thought. I learned a long time ago that more is sometimes just as dangerous as not enough. I pick up a small rock and drag it along my arm. The sensation a small reprieve to the gnawing hunger inside. I feel drops of blood run down my arm and f