Has it been days, weeks? Months or years? Maybe no time at all has passed? But surely it has, for the sun rises and falls, I wake and sleep. It possibly could be an illusion, a fever dream, I am not sure. I have lost all sense of self, all sense of honor, of pride. But perhaps you would too, if you see what we see, live what we live.
'Monsters!' They call us, they shout, laugh, taunt, as they hunt those who try to escape. We are no monsters! The only monsters are the ones who put us here, for what man could do this? Do what has been done to us? No, we are no monsters, only men trying to survive. It's eat or be eaten! The monsters are those who turned us into what we are!
We spy the perfect target, my group and I. An old woman, weak and frail, desperate to escape. Why, at night you can hear her wail for her children, her grandchildren. Perhaps at one time I may of pitied her, but that time is long past, buried under a need for food, the burning desire to survive. It is easy, lurin