"Punishment"

There is nothing under these bleak skies; there are bricks, and there is tarmac, and there is glass, but that is nothing.

I have wandered since I awoke in the room; I found nothing. No support for my leg (which is growing ever-harder to walk on), no food to eat, nothing to drink. My throat is as dry as the Arctic, and my stomach growls as if a feral beast.

But I can't stop; I can't give in. I just have to keep walking and looking; I have to find something.

Speaking of finding, I believe that there may be something following me. When I turn around, I always see something out of my eye's corner. Nothing solid, nothing tangible; just a shape, dancing and weaving away from me.

Much like sanity, as of late.