Do you know that a person can survive without water for only 3 days, but Mahatma Ghandi was able to survive as much as 21 days without food?
Those were things I used to know as a normal student in a small town. I know none of those things anymore. I just know about rage and feeling constantly hungry.
I was in my last year of high school and working a part-time job so I could save money for higher education. Things were dull, but mostly fine until an otherwise normal afternoon after classes.
It happened in the light of day. I was shoved inside a vehicle with expertise.
I never saw the faces of the men that took me. I never saw their van stinking of old blood and rancid food. I could only see the blackness of my blind and taste the slight sweetness of chloroform before I lost my senses.
When I woke up again, I was completely naked in a poorly lit room. The state I was in made me expect the worse, but there was no pain or bleeding indicating that kind of violence. It was cold, and there was a maddening dripping sound.
Something was gleaming in the dark. As soon as I adjusted my eyes, I realized it was a knife.
Drip, drip, drip.
The small room had nothing but an already dirty toilet, the knife and a crack on the ceiling dripping slimy, slightly green water. The walls and floor were gray and featureless.
A very strong light, like a camera flash, popped into my face, blinding all my senses with the shock. It disappeared after a moment, and I heard a voice.
We want to watch your suicide. Let’s see how long it will take.
_______________________________________________________
They took someone unremarkable, frail, with nothing to live for.
But now I had a purpose.
I had to frustrate my captors.
If they wanted to watch my suicide, I would be the most resilient person in the world. I wouldn’t grant their wish.
Back then, I didn’t know I was being watched by a bunch of sick and twisted people, who kept up with my daily misery in the comfort of their houses and their anonymousness.
I slept on the cold, hard floor, food never came, and the only source of water was the murky leak on the ceiling. I drank it, humiliated. It tasted worse than shit, and I would know that, since I fed on my own waste during the first few days.
The only indication that a day had ended was the blinding flash and the same cold, mocking voice telling me that they were surprised I had made it so far.
I was so hungry. So hungry. So hungry.
The room was getting hotter from my breathing every day. There was no proper ventilation; it seemed to be just enough to not let me die from carbon monoxide poisoning, a merciful death compared to the one they planned for me.
I didn’t know why they chose me. I still don’t know.
I never wronged anyone. I never excelled at anything to be a target of one’s envy.
It was just a purposeless act of evil.
The fact that it was completely random made my hatred grow and, with it, my determination.
My stomach hurt beyond words.
I was constantly sick from the putrid smells all around me.
My body ached all over.
My skin was matted and flaky, my hair falling from malnutrition.
I grabbed the knife.
I felt watched in cruel anticipation.
Not today.
I chopped off my left pinkie and shoved it in my mouth before I could think too much about it.
My own blood dripped on my chest as I chewed on my own bones.
The crunching sound should be so sickening. My teeth should be hurting so much or even breaking, bone against bone. I should be horrified to phagocyte a part of my own body.
But I was just so happy to be eating.
______________________________________________
After that, I felt my body growing stronger every day, like a member of the cannibal tribe on Papua New Guinea after ritualistically feeding on their departed loved ones.
I laughed maniacally for hours at a time and trembled endlessly but I was more alive than I’ve ever been in that captivity.
I rationed my food/body wisely. I needed my right hand, so it was crucial to spare at least 4 fingers on it, but I was free to feed on my left hand. My toes were pretty much useless; I’ve been dragging myself on the floor to move around anyway.
But I didn’t need to feed on myself for long.
No more than a week after I first took a bite on myself, the voice after the blinding flash had something else to say.
We are selling you
______________________________________________________
The official story is that I miraculously escaped my perpetrators during their flawed operation to move me to my new “owner”.
And by the time I had reached a neighbor and the police was called, they had already fled the crime scene.
The investigation was kept under extreme secrecy, so I didn’t make the world news. Hell, I only made the local news as “local teenager mutilated by unknown man”. Someone even donated me a prosthetic hand.
The police was able to take down the website where my daily tortured was being streamed non-stop, and just then I found out that I was a star.
I laughed for days because everyone felt so bad for me, not knowing that the torture I endured was way beyond losing a hand and a few toes.
I laughed for days because I know the truth no one else does.
I know how, right when they opened the door to my prison, my body felt like it was possessed by a bestial creature and, before I knew it, I used superhuman strength to crush the bones of five men all at once, then eat their fresh corpses whole.
I even licked the leftover blood from the walls before I opened the doors and headed to the closest house, dragging my bad foot.
In that moment, I felt like I was the co-pilot of my body; the wheelsman was a voice screaming KILL AND DEVOUR.
I could never escape if something hasn’t taken hold of me; I’m not strong or even fast.
I’d do anything to spend the rest of my life quietly, having my body and mind slowly heal and recover from a devastating trauma.
The problem is that eating the raw flesh of my captors was the most pleasant experience I’ve ever had in my life.
And, while I’ve been chasing mercilessly all the monsters that watched my suffering for their own enjoyment, I’m too hungry.
Their tainted flesh has not been enough for me – no, for us.
Source: https://old.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/cwor0f/i_was_the_star_of_a_deep_web_cam_for_40_days/