I'm bored so I'm practicing my descriptive skills...

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A small breeze erupted into my cramped room. I was huddled into my warm, snuggly corner. My feet were in shackles, as were everyone else's to stop them from escaping this hell.

I have grown weak within the month I have been here. My ribs have slowly peeped through my shrinking layer of skin. My lips, dried and cracked, have not had a drop of water for a week. My stomach constantly growls as it pleads for food, yet nothing arrives.

Because of the ill treatment I have here, I have decided to test ink to blood. As soon as I tried it for the tenth time, I saw my viens turn the color of ink. I now have black blood.

They fear me for this. They fear me for my surviving this long with starvation, drought, and ink poisening.

Yet, they do not know how I survice. Only I know my secret...