It seemed like days, locked in the musty smell of sweat and heat in this cell. Plus, the longer you were in this dark room, the more you felt neglected - the feeling that you think you could die any moment now. A bag over your head, you were overheating.

You did your best to cope with the loneliness and the lack of movement, humming and tapping the floor with your nails. It was all you could do with how little you were able to move. It wasn’t the most awful activity, but it got boring fast. At some point, you just gave up.

Finally, after longer than you know, you hear a heavy metal door creak open. You had lost hope over the week you were in here. Nobody took care of you while they were waiting for their leader and you were starving.

Heavy yet light footsteps approach you, the bag over your head finally being ripped off. Your eyes adjust to the light and you find a man kneeling in front of you. He has an owl mask and a jacket covered in colorful graffiti.

“I’m guessing you’re hungry.”

He eyes up your skinny body before leaving and returning a minute later with some mediocre pasta. But to you, it seemed like a feast.