>>13362273Me, Marine and Ayame (I don't really hate any chuubas desu, just some minor dislikes), we have BBQ to eat with mayo and rice. The thing that I have in there with me is my whole damn closet.
Week 1, Marine cracks some jokes at first to alleviate the situation, saying we'll be fine and that someone will come for us and that we should just enjoy this time to talk to each other. I try to spend my time either working out or sleeping to save energy while Marine tries to get acquainted with Ayame. After the few days, the happy mask of Marine starts to crack, I can hear her sobbing herself to sleep silently in the cold metal floor of the container that is now her bed. Ayame is just really pessimistic and doesn't talk much anymore. In my closet there are some clothes and some common products like toothpaste, bodyspray, plushies, nothing useful at all except for making makeshift beds to ease the pain of sleeping on the floor. There is a metal stand for a guitar which I try to use to break open the container but it soon proves to be futile.
Week 2, we are running out of food. There was only so much we could do with the BBQ, and I'm now regretting skimping out on putting those extra beefs to grill. Marine has stopped talking as well, most of our days are filled by silence. There aren't even any tears left for them to cry.
Week 3, I start thinking about my past, all the things I wish I could do differently. I go through my old notebooks from my school days which I keep in my closet, chasing for any doodles that I used to do when I was bored or messages to remember. Ayame has begun to lash out at us, saying that this is all our fault and that we are going to die here, but I do not believe her. I can tell Marine still has a glint of hope inside her as well that someone will save us. I cry myself to sleep that night thinking about my mom.
Week 4, water has run out. We are starving. My stomach won't stop hurting, it's unbearable. I think I saw Marine trying to eat some moss in the corner but she couldn't swallow it and just spit it out. There's nothing left to do other than think about the past. I try to talk to Marine and she does actually talk back, but eventually when the topic of her friends came along she began to cry dry tears of sorrow.
Week 5, the pain has stopped. I'm not hungry anymore. But the silence is deafening, none of us can bring ourselves to speak to each other anymore. All that's left is the sound of despair.
Week 6, Ayame has stopped moving.
Week 7, Marine has stopped moving.
Week 8. Goodbye, mom. I'm sorry, I love you.