Metafiction

   There is a hole that I can see into; there's nothing else in this room. I do not know from when I was here, but I am sure that it has not been more than a week because I don't have a memory of drinking a sip of water. I don't want to believe myself, but my mere memory tells me that I fall off from the top, somewhere from the top into this dark room. This room is so dark that I cannot see anything; I am in a dark chamber. However, from time to time, a tiny string-like light comes in from the hole.
   Naturally, I am damn hungry. If there were even smelly rotten cheese or swollen tomato, I would graciously devour them. Unfortunately, there aren't any of them beside me. But what made me crazy is a smell of Caprese salad with fresh tomatoes and nice Mozzarella cheese slices. I wished the concrete walls are made out of delicate Caprese salad; but noting's to be done. I hunted trough this overwhelming silence, but the place I am kept is merely big enough for me to lie down and stand up. Except the hole, I cannot feel anything around. Too bad my teeth are not hard enough to bear cement.
   I barely succeeded to read these paragraphs on the side of the wall; it was quite interesting. I went into the storage in the basement while I was looking for my school trip album that I tossed in the storage ten years ago. There were bloodstains on the wall, and each alphabet of the writing on the wall seemed to be written with something sharp, such as nails... I got scared imagining what would be happened back then, and ran to the door of the basement. I grabbed a door knob and I felt a vi...bra...tion....
   I woke up as if I have fallen down into a pit, but where I was was not where I used to be. I was not in my room; I was not in the familiar space. My butt and back hurt intensively, giving me a firm basis to guess that I really fall off from somewhere. There is no light here. It's very, very dark. I cannot see anything. Suddenly, a thin bright light struck my eyes; I could not open my eyes for a minute. For the minute, tons of thoughts went in my mind. Will I be dead soon? Am I already dead? What about my family and friends? Where am I? Am I dying alone? NOBODY WON'T EVEN RECOGNIZE THAT I'M DYING!
   When I opened my eyes, I started to find a way that can prove people that I was here. I thought about it when I slept. I sometimes had a nightmare. Sometimes, I dreamed about getting out of this hopeless. Sometimes, I did not think of anything. I repeated to think, sleep, think, and sleep.
   Finally, I decided to write down a record. No paper, no pencil, but I have my nails and walls. I started to write down: There is a hole that I can see into; there's nothing else in this room. I do not know from when I was here, but I am sure that it has not been...