She's hitting the walls. She's hitting herself. She's hitting the foam chair in the middle of the room.

She wants to end herself, end this place. But she can't.

The walls are foam, caving in around her, with no doors or windows to offer escape.

She's going crazy, for there isn't a single hard or sharp object insight for her to use.

They aren't letting her go or giving her a way to run away. She's trapped.

She has to figure it out herself and find a way to escape.

So she stops beating and starts clawing at the foam walls.

It doesn't work.

“My nails aren't long enough.” She growls beneath her breath.

There is laughter outside, a man’s.

“Let me out!”

The man doesn't respond.

She grows more and more frustrated.

“How you doin’ princess?”

The man outside asks, with a dark chuckle in his voice.

She growls again, this time loud, like an animal’s. Then leaps at the foam wall.

She rebounds back, her head hitting the back foam wall.

No matter how many times she leaps, beats, and scratches, it does nothing to aid her escape.

She wishes someone else was in here with her.

Someone with sharp nails.

Though false hope.

Anyhow, she’d probably die soon from suffocating or going so insane to the point life wouldn't be able to handle her insanity.

So she falls to the floor. Soft and foamy as the walls.

She traces its texture and contemplates how she will escape.

“Maybe death is the only way out”.

She whispers to herself, her fingers going round and round in a circle.

“Yes.”

A voice in her head whispered.

She listened to the voice, closing her eyes and letting death take her when she could no longer breathe in the door and windowless foam room they trapped her in.