Life in the Pits

Eight was startled as she looked into the mirror. She breathed mist onto her palms to try and soothe them, but nothing changed. She was deathly white. This wasn't normal, but somehow she felt like the Voice knew. She advanced towards the door, and realized it was locked again.

she still felt extremely hungry, and curled up in a ball on the floor.

Five's eyes slowly opened and then they grew wide. What was going on? Something didn't feel right. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes a little and that's when she realized what was happening. She couldn't feel anything! Her muscle memory allowed her to move her limbs but for some reason she couldn't feel herself moving them. Afraid of what would happen if she tried to walk, she slowly brought her feet over the side of the bed and set them down. Nothing, just as she thought. Her first attempt to walk led to her falling to the floor, but after a few more attempts, she could finally hobble over to the door to open it. She had to talk to the Voice about this!

((I hope this is what you mean by lack of feeling. ))

After a moment, Eight managed to look up to her bed. The man startled her badly, and she let a muffled screech out before she regained her composure. Though she never really had any.

"A--" Eight was about to ask him the million dollar question, but corrected herself quickly, "Do you want something from me?"

Eight made a face like she just put pesto sauce on her ice cream. "Yes."

Eight blinked and looekd at him, slack-jawed. "Pardon me if I am mistaken, but are you... the... Voice?" She had that curious and oblivious look of toddlers on her face.

Five finally managed to make it to the door, opening it up after a few attempts of varying strengths while turning the knob. She felt like she would be able to get used to this, but it would take a lot of trial and error. Trying the door, she realized that it was still locked. Frowning, she wondered if this was going to be like the last wake. Turning for her meal bar, she awkwardly opened it and ate it, though she really didn't feel anything. "This is so strange."

1 wakes up, sniffling, and walks over to the mirror."Great, I have a cold. Must be from that long day yesterday."

Once 1 notices there are no meal bars, 1 feels hungry. "Oh, and that is just as great..."

1 moves to see if the doors are open, and seeing as they aren't, lay down and take a nap to hopefully bypass this cold.

9 gets up and stretches, waltzing over to the sink...he looks down and realizes that there is no meal bar...he curses under his breath for the fact that he should have saved the other one...he tries both doors to no prevail...

"Well then..."

he sits back on his bed and rubs the back of his neck

10 got up, feeling the usual, a little bit over rested.
Getting up, he yawned, looking around, bleary eyed.

Three got up.

Why the hell is my hair white? he thought. He walked around his room, waiting for something to happen.

6 woke up and rubbed tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. When he opened them he saw that everything had a redish tint to it. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes again. Nothing changed.

'What the...'

He got up slowly and shook his head. He went to the sink and saw that there was no meal bar there for him. He then walked over to the door and tried to open it, finding it locked again. He turned around and looked at the now slightly red walls of his room. 6 sat on his bed and sighed, wondering when he could leave.

"I... see..." Eight managed to croak. She looked down at the floor, suddenly feeling alien to the setting of her own room. It was the first time she had ever felt trapped. "Are the others the same as I am?"

Eight followed his every movement with great attention. "Am I so special that you're with me and not with the others?" she managed to ask. She knew she was not supposed to be asking the Voice anything--it wasn't customary. But somehow she felt like today, if she didn't ask about her concerns, they'd never be answered.