It has been two years to the day when I got taken to this place. Its okay though, I don’t have to see them. I haven’t seen anyone at all, really. It’s better this way, and I am happier than I have ever been. I still remember when they put me, in here. I didn’t even do anything bad, other than forcing a fork into the hand of the man who stole my brownie. 

It was his first day and he decided to steal my brownie. He looked at me as he did it. He took one bite and chewed as his words were caught in his breath. “You’re a woman, you won’t do anything.” I glared at him and grabbed my fork. I plunged it into his hand. Then two guards were dragging me away from him as he yelled in pain. They were saying that I was going to “the hole” whatever that is. 

This guy was huge, tattoos everywhere and full of muscle, but as soon the pain hits he turns into some baby, huh. Well, they pulled me here and I’ve been here ever since. I haven’t seen anyone in two years. I can’t even do anything. I have no window, I have a bland mattress with a solid black sheet. There is a white toilet just beside my bed, as well as a single grey camera above my cell door. Now I’ve tried to knock it down just to see someone, but I can not reach it.

I’ve tried everything. I leaned my bland mattress against the wall and tried to come it, but it always falls to the floor. Then I’ve tried to move my bed frame to under it, and come that, but it is bolted into the cold floor of the cell. Now I did try and jump from the bed to knock the camera down, but that resulted into the nasty bruise that I have on my arm. 

I’ve given up, and you know what I’m okay with it. I don’t have to deal with everyone out there, it’s just me, myself and I. That’s how it should be. I stood up from my bland bed, threw my arms behind my back and yelled, “you hear that? I like it here. I never want to get out!” I had a huge smile on my face and chuckled as I tried to catch my breath. 

I looked around and realized that I was alone, like actually alone. All I had was this bland notebook and this dull pencil. Well, no one knows that I have it, I snuck it in when they put me in here. In the past two years, I’ve used most of the book, but I still have around five pages left. I take hold of the notebook, bring it to my chest, then slowly use the wall to aid my way down to the cold floor. Still, at my chest, I watch as the notebook moves up and down with the rhythm of my breath. 

I regrettably stated, “I am never getting out here, am I?” I take in my knees to my chest and buried my head. The room was so cold, and bare. I’ve given up. I felt my notebook slip away from my body, and I heard it skid across the chilled floor. I peered over to the saddened notebook, and it was opened. I unburied my head and crawled over to the wall that it was against. 

I took hold of the notebook and tried to make sure that nothing fell out, but as I pulled it away from the wall, there a single paper lied. I thought to myself that it was stuck and I’d get caught if anyone saw it. So I prepared to pull it with all of my force, but when I put my hand onto the top of the paper, it moved easily. I pulled at it and it came out, so quick. I asked myself, “what if there was a hole in the wall, just small enough to not see. 

A smile grew on my saddened face, “What if there is someone on…” I was stopped mid thought. I felt something sharp tap the palm of my hand. I looked down and there my paper was. Somehow it came back to me. I picked it up to examine it, and there were jagged letters on the inside of the paper. It read, 

My name is Sally. I live in the cell right next to yours. I haven’t talk to anyone in a long time. So I hope you are a read person, and not some person in my imagination. Sorry I took up this entire

page. I hope you have another so we can talk. What do you say? 

She wrote in huge letters, and in a black marker. This really sucks because I only have four pieces of paper left. It has been two years since I spoke to someone. So I have to write her back. I opened my notebook and ripped out a blank page. I thought about what I was going to say bfore I pressed the sharp tip to the blank sheet paper. Then I wrote it, 

I want to talk, and I am a real person.

I wanted to tell her everything about me,

My name is Tammy, I have dark brown hair and bright green eyes. I used to live in CapeTown,

Florida, but now  I live here. Where did you live before you were here? I folded the piece of paper and slid it through the wall. I left a lot of room on the paper so she could write. My handwriting is so small compared to hers, but our letters are like the same. 

It felt like an hour had gone by and I started to think about what was going on. What if I was just crazy, and there was no one there. What If I was just talking to myself. Maybe. The folded paper had interrupted me again. I looked down at it and said, “See, I knew I was not crazy.” I looked around the room, and no one was there. A nervous smile grew on my face as I opened the folded letter. It read,

Hello Tammy. You already know my name. I used to have dark brown hair too,  but I dyed it baby blue before I came in here, so now I look like I have blue tips.

 I also have bright green eyes. All I know is that I was born in CapeTown, Florida,  but my parents gave me up. I guess they didn’t want me. I did get adopted a year after  I turned one though. My adoptive parents lived in Nashville, Tennesee. 

That’s where I lived, but now I live here. What do you like to do?

What is your favorite food? Mine is chocolate.

I finished reading the letter in amazement thinking that we were like the same people. I rushed to ripped out the next paper. I wasn’t paying attention when I ripped it out of the notebook. I tared it in half, so I guess half for me and half for her. I quickly wrote,

My favorite food if chocolate too. This is so weird, we are like one in the same person.

 The food that I can’t eat is cinnamon and pumpkin. I tried to do eat pumpkin pie,  and my mom pushed me to the emergency room, then I wanted a cinnamon poptart  when  I got out of the emergency room. My mom of course said yes, but then we  were right back in there. Bad times. I have never dyed my hair, but I wanted to. My  favorite color is blue, dark blue. I like to be outside. My mom would always yell at me to  come back inside. My favorite animal is a snowy owl. I don’t know what else to talk about.

I folded the paper twice, so Sally’s half would not fly out when I would shove it under the wall.

Then I waited. I waited for her response. 

I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. I tried to picture Sally, but every time I did I just could not get her right. I needed to know a lot more about her, but I was running out of paper. I opened my eyes and gave up. Then, looking down at my notebook I counted the paper. “Two,” I said aloud. “I only have two left. What am I going to..” I watched as the paper flew through the thick wall. I felt it glid against my bare leg. It stopped nearly at my feet. I reached for it, and I saw the marker bleed through the paper. I unfolded it and read it aloud, 

I can’t eat cinnamon either. I never had pumpkin though. The story behind the  cinnamon when I was a little girl, I would always have normal toast, but this time

 I wanted to try cinnamon toast. After my first bite, my mouth felt funny. My dad asked me if I was ‘ok’, then my lips swelled, and he took me to the ER. They told me that

 I was allergic to cinnamon, and I haven’t had it since. It’s weird, we like all the same things. 

She sent the letter back with no question. I took out another blank paper and wrote,

It’s weird. What is your family like? Any siblings?

I only wrote a small note, but I sent it anyway. I folded it and sent it on its way. 

I sat in silence, only humming. Again it felt like an hour went by when I got her next letter. It was not folded, but it read,

No siblings, kinda. What about you?

 Her letter was short and sweet. I ripped out my last sheet of paper and wrote,

What do you mean by Kinda? No siblings, but 

I had always thought that I had a sister

I sealed my final letter and sent it under the wall. Minutes later I hear her last piece of paper brush against the cold ground. I slowly unfold it and read it out loud, 

I also had thought that I had a sister.

 Then in small print at the bottom of her final page were two words,

 ​“What if…”