Losing Time

I woke up and drew the 966th line on that white wall, the wall I've been waking up to since 965 days ago. I slept when I was thinking of death, just like the other 965 nights. 

It's the D-day.

I watched my surroundings. My room was all white and there was no window. There were only beds and a table. There were no wall stickers or clocks as decoration. I couldn't even see anything outside this whte box. I didn't know whether the sun still sets to the west. I even forgot the color of sunlight. Here, the only light I could see was that one which came out of a bulb that never die out. This would be the last time I saw this room. The view I've been seeing since the day the judge sentenced me to death. The warden knocked on the steel door.

"Finally you're here. I'm done with that disgusting plain porridge. I want my mom's chicken soup as my last breakfast," I said it before he even asked.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. He opened the door and put a tray on the metal table. There was a bowl with a disgusting white substance in it.

"Again? I don't understand! It's the execution day! You're suppose to ask me what I want to eat as my last breakfast, Simon!" I shouted. I felt so angry that I hit my head to the wall and cried. 

"Not again," I could hear him mumbling. He stepped slowly to the wall where I free lines on and erase some lines with his finger.

"SIMON WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Just shut up and finish your dinner!" He went out and closed the door so hard that the bars on it shook. Suddenly my head felt so heavy and I began to sleep again. I wasn't sure if I was sleeping or just taking a nap.