No one returns.

Continuing to dangle from the ceiling by my wrists, the agony has reached a level I never knew existed. My throat is dry, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and I'd call out if it would do any good but this is part of the punishment. Punishment for not knowing the information they want.

Hollow and empty, my thoughts are all I have left. They are my only company but they are scattered incoherent trails of past memories and false futures which have blurred together forming scenes which never really happened. Instead of me and Teddy kissing in the alleyway, it's me and Grey. My mum is bent over large piles of laundry as I hold a baby which I sing lullabies to.

I'm losing control of my reality and I've stopped trying to fight it. I allow my mind to take me away into a cocoon of falsities. Maybe, I'm dying. I really hope so. This would be a good way to die; surrounded by hallucinations of those I care about until it all fades and I sink into nothingness.