Victor sits on the floor in a dark room, his back to a door. He's wearing jeans and a blue hoodie. His head is leaning against his fist, propped up on his knee. "Rabbit, come on," he says, apparently speaking to thin air. "I'm so bored. Just one book."
He looks at the door, waiting for an answer.
"Rabbit!" he shouts. We zoom out to see more of the room; the floor is tiled, and there is a disgusting sink in one corner, green with mould. Despite there being a bed - unmade - Victor has elected to sit on the floor. A loudspeaker crackles to life: "No. You already have a book." "I finished that days ago!" Victor protests. I'm going to die of boredom in here."
"You're not getting anything else," comes the reply. "Just sit there and shut up." "Hrmmnmnmmn... you shut up..." Victor grumbles.
Suddenly the door swings open and his eyes widen in surprise.
"Finally," he says smugly, leaving the room. There is an old keypad on the outside of the door. His eyes are closed as he speaks. "No need to apologise, I can find my own way back to the-" His words are cut off.
End of page.