White Room

I’ve been in here for a while now; the days have blended. It’s the same routine every day: wake up, get fed slop, do nothing, and go to sleep. Occasionally, someone who is plump and ripe will be taken from the barn to somewhere I haven’t seen just yet. I throw up my food in the corner to buy myself more time. I don’t want to see what’s on the other side; whoever gets taken doesn’t come back. It’s cramped in here, almost filled to the brim. Sometimes new people come in, and at first they scream, they beg, but then they understand their place. That no one is coming to save us, and that we are livestock now. I don’t question what is being fed to me; I try not to think that it’s scraps of others who’ve been in here.

My boyfriend Dimitri and I were exploring the farm at night when he and I stumbled across this place. Dimitri and I met a few years back, over a video I posted on Instagram. It was one of me exploring an abandoned factory, and he DM'd me, saying that he’d love to join. Ever since then, our love for eachother grew; we both had the same hobbies, goals, same everything. We decided to explore the countryside at night; we wanted to see the sunrise from the hills. But Dimitri, being the clumsy person he always was, tripped over something, alerting the farmer who lived here. I call the farmer John; he looks like a John. John found us and knocked us out with his shotgun, hitting us both in the head with it. When we awoke, we were in here, stripped of our clothes and chained up. I think that was a few weeks ago.

Dimitri was taken a few days ago; he wasn’t even ready yet. But he was rebelious; he kicked, thrashed, and made his efforts to fight back. That’s what I loved about him; he never gave up. He was never scared of confrontation when my mother kicked me out. Dimitri gave her a piece of his mind; he argued with her for hours, and he even punched her in the face. He always protected me and kept me safe. We took the big leap and moved in together a few months ago, got a dog, and everything. Now that I think about it, our dog, Cupcake, is most likely dead. I’m trying to stay positive, though; maybe someone went to check on us, noticed our disappearance, and found Cupcake. Dimitri adored her; he loved animals. Funny enough, he wanted to eventually have a farm. He was taken in the middle of the day, after a heated fight between him and John in the morning. John was trying to feel around my ribs, see if I was gaining weight fast enough, and Dimitri flipped out. When John went to check on him, Dimitri bit him, hard, ripping off flesh. When John took him, Dimitri was screaming my name, saying, ‘I love you, Katriana!' I’ve been crying on and off ever since he was taken. I barely eat anymore, and John has noticed. I think he’s getting angry with me.

I don’t care; I’d rather die of starvation than end up being livestock in the end. Atleast there will be no meat on my bones for John to eat.

John even breeds us to keep an ever-growing supply. Like we are cattle. He chooses different males and females, thinking of whose genes would make the best offspring. He hasn’t paired me yet; I think he does it out of respect because of Dimitri. Either that or he thinks my genes are no good. A woman gave birth last week; she’s allowed to keep the baby. From what I’ve been told by others, some of the babies don’t get so lucky, but some go and live in the house with John. They are our caretakers as well; they help bring us food and bathe us. John says that to let us live in our own filth would be nasty. We might be livestock to him, but we aren’t animals, apparently.

Some of his children are kind, some are cruel. Some like to kick us, poke us with cattle prods, and taunt us. Some take pity on us, but they don’t dare help us. I think John has convinced them this is natural, normal, and not letting them see the outside world. I wonder how his mind works, how he justifies this. What separates us from him? Some of the children live in here with us; they can’t read, barely speak, and they are pretty much permanent babies. I wonder how he chooses which ones to keep and which ones to eat. He doesn’t discriminate on gender; there must be some ranking he keeps in his mind.

I was studying to become a psychologist, and I observe John’s behavior carefully. He’s clearly traumatized; I can practically smell it off of him. Something happened to him as a kid; I wish I could ask him what. I wanted to be a psychologist so badly; I wanted to help people. My mother suffered severely with a personality disorder, doesn’t excuse her actions, but I wanted to prevent people like her from happening. To intervene early because I like to think that if my mom got the help she needed, she wouldn’t have been so abusive. I wonder if my mom misses me; after she kicked me out, we didn’t talk for a while. But she needed help with money eventually, so she reached out. Being her daughter, I felt obligated to. My mom could never keep a stable job. I wonder if she misses me and has called the police yet.

Dimitri’s parents have definitely noticed our absence. Dimitri came from a loving home; they adored him; he was their only kid. They most likely have called the police by now, and they are doing anything and everything to get us back. They took me in as one of their own. I had my first Thanksgiving with them; Dimitri’s father makes the best turkey.

I’m in this weird limbo; a part of me wants to give up and accept my fate. But another part of me wants to keep fighting, for Dimitri, to get out. I’ve been cooking up a plan for all that I’ve been in here, to get thin enough to slip out of my chains. So far it’s working; I can feel them get looser by the day. A part of me is worried that John will take notice, but he has so many of us; he can’t be that attentive to each one of us. Maybe he will just leave me be, and figure that I am a lost cause, that something must be wrong with me, and that he wouldn’t want to eat me anyway.

The days keep passing by so fast; it all just combines into one big lump. Today, John took someone again, but they returned a few hours later. John said that he ‘misjudged’ that they weren’t quite ready. When they came back, they let out heart-breaking cries. They told us about a separate barn, where John slaughters us. They told me that they saw Dimitri’s head on a shelf, that John keeps heads of everyone he slaughters on a shelf, like taxidermy. I cried when they told me that; I mean, I knew he was dead, but hearing he was being kept as some trophy hurt. They said that John regretted his decision when he brought them in there, and said they weren’t ready just yet. That they needed a few more weeks, that he misjudged where they were in the journey. I don’t know what they meant by that; from what I’ve noticed, a part from what happened with Dimitri, John takes you when you’ve grown fat enough for him.

I’ve grown thinner, and John has taken notice; he’s feeding me extra. I give to others, who just want to speed up the process. I give it to the people who lost hope and just want to die already. They gleefully accept it; I hope they reach their goal soon. I can’t spend my time arguing with them, because I am not even sure I’ll make it out. But now I can nearly get my foot all the way out, and I am planning to escape at night. I think if I just struggle a bit more, I can get it out, so I think tonight is the night. I don’t know where I’ll run to, but I’ll just keep running.

This is all for you, Dimitri. I will make it out; I will return to Cupcake. I will get justice for you. He and I were supposed to get married; I was going to propose to him. I wanted our life to be spent together, get old, and die together. Now, Dimitri is nothing more than livestock; he is nothing more than meat, and I am struggling to handle it. He isn’t just dead; he is eaten, can’t even have his ashes, and he is inside of John’s digestive tract. I won’t kill John, as much as I want to; I don’t have the strength to. Atleast if I make it out, he can get arrested, thrown away in jail where he belongs. Hopefully he will get the death penalty for his crimes, and I’ll get to watch him die. But another part of me hopes he rots in prison; prisoners don’t exactly get treated great. No one will like a crazed cannibal either.

I can’t wait to see Dimitri’s parents when I get out. I mean, I want to see my mom, but his parents have been more parental than she ever was. I just want to hug Dimitri’s mom and cry into her arms. I want her to stroke my hair and tell me it’ll be okay. When I get out, I will.

It is nighttime now, and I am currently struggling with getting my foot out. I have finally gotten it free. I have told the others that I will return with help; some believe me and are overjoyed, and some think I won’t make it out. Whatever, I don’t need their negativity anyway; even if I don’t make it, atleast I know I will die trying. I quickly stand up and stretch; God, it feels so good to finally have that thing off. I know the door is bolted shut with a lock, but there are windows, and they aren’t on lockdown. I slowly make my way over to one and open it quietly. I know John has dogs, but from the information I gathered, they are upfront, and we are in the back, hidden away from the world. I just need to be careful.

I slip out the window, and the breeze hits my naked body; it's chilly out, but I am to deteremined to care. I start running; I am quiet, but my movements are fast. It feels like I am running forever; my body has grown tired, but I will not give up. I believe I see the road in the distance. The moon is full enough that it is lighting a path for me. I think God has sent divine intervention for me. I’ve made it to the road, and I see a car in the distance. I am free.

I love you, Dimitri.

A/N: Hi guys, this is my baby. I’ve had similar ideas to this since I was about thirteen. This isn’t quite the original idea, because I am saving that for a book one day. But the concept of a human farm has always really interested me. I’ve had an idea of this concept for years, and to see it come alive on paper is heartwarming. I might connect this to the book when I write it. If you guys would like me to write a book on it, let me know. I don’t think thirteen-year-old me would ever believe this would come onto paper, or well, laptop. All my articles are named after songs, and this one is named after a ‘Cream’ song.