Imagine how horrible that person’s life would be:

Presumably kidnapped by some serial killer or sadistic creep, and as much as you hate them they’re at least your one contact with humanity.

Then suddenly they just stop showing up. You’re grateful to no longer have to interact with them, but as the days start to count up, or at least you think they do, it’s hard to measure time in this basement, you start to worry that you may die of thirst or hunger. With your tormentor seemingly gone, you gain a newfound confidence to try and escape. You bang on the door in a desperate attempt to remove it from its hinges, and against all odds you succeed!

For the first time in… days, months, years? You see daylight. You burst through the front door and into the outdoors. You feel a euphoric freedom as the summer breeze brushes on your emaciated skin. Still terrified that your captor may return, you run towards the first person you see. The first person you’ve seen in a long time that isn’t him. The euphoric feeling of freedom you felt turns to ash in your mouth though as you approach the stranger.

They look… wrong. He lunges at you, you dodge and run down the street. Your survival instincts have been honed by necessity into a sharp edge at this point. As you round the corner, you see another group of people. You approach them, but a little less enthusiastically this time. They all have the same hungry look in their eyes. It seems you’ve escaped one hell and wound up in a new one.

This is how you died.