The marks that were scraped onto my wall added up to 784. Seven hundred and eighty-four days is how long I have been trapped in this hellhole. I have been in His possession for a little over two years. My fourteenth birthday (that I'm pretty sure I've calculated correctly) was in two weeks, and I had just a sliver of hope that He would set me free.

The daily routine had officially started with three knocks on my door. He walks in and places my breakfast tray on the dirty floor. I can only stare at him, for he was the man who ruined my life. He walks out, like usual and slams the door shut.

Over the next few hours, I got ready for the day. Afterward, I reread my books on knives and guns, as that was my only entertainment. Before the scheduled lunchtime, three knocks were heard from my door. I looked up from my book as He walked in.

He grumpily told me to come with him, I knew what was coming. I sighed deeply before following him down the scary dark hallway that I had walked down before. We walked into the same room that I had met that women all those months ago. There was a large table in the middle of the room. I was filled with beakers and liquids of different colors. I walked into the room and sat on the wooden chair next to it. The air quality smelled toxic.

"Today, we learn something new." He said to me. I looked at the various beakers, confused at what we were going to make.

"Today we will learn a special trait. It will ensure more casualties than simply stabbing people. I am going to show you how to make a bomb."

My eyes widened at His statement. A bomb? A bomb for what? To kill innocent people, what were we, terrorists?

"I will be teaching you how to make simple, all the way to chemical bombs. You will practice until you perfect the technique. It should take a few weeks for you to perfect it. You will then set one off in a specific location that I will determine later."

I watched as he began fusing things together. My eyes started to water, and it wasn't because of the chemicals.

Two weeks later

I sat on the park bench, dangling my feedback and forth. My stomach rolled every which way, and my clothes were drenched in sweat. The hot and humid summer air surrounded me, making me feel even worse. The backpack that was strapped onto my back carried the delicate intricate bomb that I had "perfected".

The alarm on my watch went off, scaring me. It was time. I got up and walked towards the loud noises coming from the music festival down the street. I maneuvered my way through adults. The stench of alcohol was everywhere. I finally made my way to a pocket in the crowd. I laid the book bag onto the ground. I looked around, I watch as two girls jumped up and down to the beat of the music, and a guy and chugging his beer on a bet. 

My heart broke inside, as all of these people I watched were going to die in a matter of seconds. I ran back through my entry and kept running. Tears ran down my face, as I ran past the bench and where I was supposed to wait for Him. I kept running, even as the bomb went off, and screams filled the air. 

I kept running.

And all I could think of was those people, and how this birthday really blew, literally.