We’ve been trapped here for days with no food, and no one has reached out with love or help. We wait hopelessly

It has been days—how many, we’re no longer sure—since we’ve been trapped here. The hours have blurred into one long, agonizing stretch of time. The walls around us, once just part of the background, now feel like an oppressive force, closing in with each passing second. Hunger gnaws at our insides, a relentless reminder of how dire our situation has become. No food, no water, and worst of all, no sign that anyone has noticed or cares. We are completely cut off, and with each day that passes, the hope of rescue fades a little more. We wait, but what are we waiting for? Help? A miracle? Or just the inevitable?

At first, we thought someone would come. It was unthinkable that we would be left here, forgotten. When the disaster struck, we huddled together, seeking solace in each other’s presence, believing that it was only a matter of time before help would arrive. We told ourselves it would be hours, maybe a day at most. We reassured each other with forced optimism, trying to keep spirits high as we waited. But the hours stretched on, and the silence from the outside world became deafening. We had no communication, no way of reaching out, and no way of knowing if anyone was even aware of our plight.

The first day passed in a haze of confusion and disbelief. We kept telling ourselves that rescue was imminent, that surely someone out there was looking for us. But as day turned to night and no one came, the cold reality began to set in. Panic started to creep in at the edges of our thoughts, but we pushed it back. We couldn’t afford to panic yet. We needed to stay calm, to stay focused. We rationed what little food and water we had left, believing that help would come before things got too desperate. But as the supplies dwindled, so did our hope.

By the second day, the hunger had become impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just a dull ache anymore—it was sharp, constant, an ever-present reminder of our worsening condition. Our stomachs groaned in protest, but there was nothing we could do. The small amount of food we had managed to scavenge was long gone, and there was no way to get more. We tried to distract ourselves, talking about anything other than the situation we were in. But every conversation circled back to the same haunting question: Where was everyone? Why hadn’t anyone come for us?

The third day was the hardest. Our bodies were weak, our minds foggy from hunger and fatigue. The initial shock and fear had faded, replaced by a dull, aching hopelessness. We were no longer just waiting for rescue—we were waiting for an answer to the silence that surrounded us. We had heard nothing, no sign that anyone even knew we were here. We had no way of knowing if help was on the way or if we had been completely forgotten. The world outside seemed distant, unreachable, as if we had been cut off from it entirely. The realization that no one might be coming began to sink in.

We had never imagined it would come to this. When we first found ourselves trapped, we believed that someone—anyone—would come to help. We imagined search teams scouring the area, calling out for us, desperately trying to reach us. But now, after days with no contact, we couldn’t help but wonder if we had been left behind. Had the world moved on without us? Was there some other crisis, some larger disaster that had taken priority over us? The thought was unbearable, but it was hard to push away.

We had each other, but even that comfort was beginning to fray. Hunger makes people desperate, and desperation leads to tension. We tried to support one another, but the constant hunger and the weight of uncertainty took its toll. We argued over small things—who would get the last sip of water, whose turn it was to search for food that wasn’t there. We blamed each other, and we blamed ourselves. Why hadn’t we been more prepared? Why hadn’t we found a way to escape? But there was no answer to these questions, just the oppressive silence that surrounded us.

Time became meaningless. With no food, no water, and no sign of help, the days began to blur together. We slept fitfully, haunted by dreams of rescue that never came. The hunger gnawed at us constantly, a reminder that our bodies were slowly shutting down. We grew weaker with each passing day, our movements slower, our thoughts clouded by fatigue and despair. The only thing we could do was wait. But waiting was its own kind of torture. Each hour that passed without rescue felt like a lifetime, and with every passing moment, the hope that had sustained us in the beginning grew fainter.

We tried to keep our spirits up. We told ourselves stories, talked about the things we would do once we were free, the meals we would eat, the people we would see. But as the days dragged on, those conversations became harder to maintain. It was difficult to imagine a future when the present felt so bleak. We stopped talking about the outside world because it felt too distant, too unreachable. Instead, we focused on survival, though even that felt increasingly futile. Without food or water, how long could we last?

The worst part was the isolation. It wasn’t just that we were trapped—it was that no one seemed to care. We had been cut off from the world, and no one had reached out with love or help. The silence from the outside felt like a betrayal. Where were our friends, our families? Did they even know we were missing? Had they given up on us, assuming the worst? The loneliness was as crushing as the hunger, perhaps even more so. It was one thing to be hungry; it was another to feel forgotten, to feel like the world had moved on without you.

We waited, but our waiting felt hopeless. We had no way of knowing if anyone was coming, no way of knowing if we would ever be found. The days passed in a blur of hunger and despair, and with each passing hour, the hope of rescue grew dimmer. We were trapped, not just by the walls around us, but by the silence that had enveloped our lives. No one had reached out, and the longer we waited, the more it felt like no one ever would.