Chapter 37 Prison Diary 1

Honestly, I initially imagined this might just be a joke or a surprise, a special anniversary event, a surprise party, or just some fun couple's thing.

I imagined Bruce popping out from somewhere and saying,

"Surprise party, baby, scared you?"

But no.

Reality slapped me hard in the face, shattering those rosy fantasies.

None of my fantasies had happened.

After five hours of being locked up, I finally accepted this awful reality.

I began to take stock of what I could use. I searched the room. There were spare clothes in the closet, some toiletries in the bathroom, but they were all made of plastic, nothing made of iron.

Bruce would hand me my meals through a small window in the iron door, but the window was only ten centimeters long, less than the width of a fist, barely wide enough for a normal adult to fit through.

Furthermore, he never communicated with me while delivering the meals. No matter how I expressed my dissatisfaction, he remained unmoved.

He seemed to want me to adapt to all this, but was it possible? Even with the best of intentions, I couldn't survive in this cage, a prison constructed by someone.

This place filled me with despair. I didn't know what I had done wrong, but I felt like I was being treated like a prisoner.

I couldn't find my phone; perhaps it had been lost in the fire, or perhaps Bruce had confiscated it, leaving me without my only means of contact with the outside world.

I couldn't tell if putting me in solitary confinement was his idea alone, or if he'd discussed it with his family. I personally leaned towards the former.

Regardless, I knew I had to find a way out.

Bruce was mad, truly mad... Oh my god, Batman had become a lunatic...

I suspected he was probably sitting outside, watching my every move.

There were definitely surveillance cameras here, but honestly, I had no experience with surveillance, so I could only rummage through things bit by bit, trying to find any trace of hidden cameras.

I began talking to the air, convinced Bruce could hear me. At first, I demanded answers, I demanded explanations, but it's not easy to stage a one-person drama. I shouted into the silence, but he ignored me.

Maybe he wanted to wait until I calmed down before we could talk.

But I knew I was actually quite calm. Besides my disappointment in him, I couldn't be calmer.

I just couldn't suppress my other emotions.

...

The next day.

When I woke up, the bandage on my hand had been replaced with a new one. The water glass I'd smashed the day before had magically returned to its original shape. The scattered items on the floor had been returned to their original places.

It was like a wizard from a novel had rushed in, waved his wand, and cast a spell to restore everything to its original state.

I watched it all with a blank expression.

Well, the good news is, my sense of humor is still there. I consoled myself with this, calmly sitting at the table and enjoying my custom breakfast.

Two eggs, a glass of milk, and a bacon sandwich. He even thoughtfully prepared three kinds of jam for me to choose from. This was probably a lot better than what you get from a typical criminal.

I tore the sandwich apart and spread a different kind of jam on each piece, working from the outside in, creating circles to make it look more appetizing.

Then, I cracked the eggs, peeled them, and crushed them into chunks with a plastic fork. I spread them evenly over the sandwich, then stacked them and drew a smiley face on them with jam.

Finally, I finished my breakfast.

Afterward, I went to the bathroom, washed the dishes, dried them with a cotton cloth, and returned them to the table.

I whispered to the air,

"I'm done, thank you."

Still no one answered me.

...

Maybe four or five hours later? I'm not sure, but there was a sudden noise from the door.

I sat up quickly.

Bruce walked in, wearing a black shirt and matching straight-leg pants.

His clothes were old-fashioned and ugly.

I watched him walk over and stand in front of me.

He lowered his head to look at me, and when our eyes met, I couldn't decipher the emotion contained in those blue eyes.

He spoke, his tone as if he were talking to an emotionally unstable patient.

"Jack, I want to ask you about those candies."

Here they come again, candies... yes, candies -

I scratched the bed board with my hands in annoyance. He seemed to think that I could accept his story and took the trouble to add such messy details to his lies...

"What do you want to ask?" I asked.

"I have checked the store where you bought these candies and the manufacturers of those candies, and everything is normal." He said with a serious expression, "So I want to ask you if you have ever shown these candies to others, have you ever shared these candies? Have they ever passed through your hands?"

"Of course-" I couldn't help laughing. For the first time, I found that my voice could be so sarcastic, "Of course, I throw my candies out of the window every day to the children downstairs, so I have a good relationship with my neighbors. They all call me Brother Napier. I think I-"

"Jack." He interrupted me, "This is a serious question. I need you to answer seriously."

"Serious, I'm serious," I stood up and looked at him at eye level, and said in a very fast tone, "But if you want to get an answer from me, you must explain to me clearly why you locked me up here. I'm not an Aladdin's lamp. As long as you ask, I will give you answers for free, not to mention-"

I took a breath and continued:

"When you use those ridiculous words to fool me!"

Bruce looked away and stopped talking.

The room was very quiet, with only the sound of our breathing.

I silently calculated in my mind how likely it was that I could escape and regain my freedom while he wasn't noticing.

...

Unfortunately, I failed to realize my idea.

He suddenly grabbed my hand and forced me to look at him.

There was a sense of fatigue in his voice.

"Jack," he called my name again and said, "This is really important. It concerns your safety - did your body have any strange reactions after eating those candies?"

His continued pestering made some sparks rise in my heart.

"No reaction, and no one else touched my candies!" I said loudly, shaking off his hand, "Now that you have asked, and I have told you all the answers, can you let me go?"

He turned away, not answering the question that concerned me most.

The door closed in front of me again... with a "click".

I stood there motionless, feeling a little like laughing.

I was calm.