[ WP ] Young Jonathan has been locked in his room for two years . Arguments through the walls and scraps left by random men connected him to the outside world . After an evening of screaming and ungodly noises last week , it has been quiet . A cookie has been slid under his door each morning since .

He ’ d been counting, and it had been two years, five months, and 11 days since he ’ d been locked in his room. 
 
 They ’ d said, *It ’ s for your own safety, Jon. * 
 
 He wondered how it would make it safer for him to remain in his room for two years, but he guessed it was meant to be temporary. Not very much so now, was it? 
 
 His only link to the outside world were scraps of paper, left by men and women who would possibly never return again, or maybe it was the same people since he ’ d been in. There was a peephole in the wall and a bed. 
 
 For food? 
 
 He had to rely, again on those lone souls who left the paper. Sometimes there was food there, sometimes there was n't. 
 
 The only things in his room apart from a bed were a worn music player, and a computer terminal, connected to an old fat TV. 
 
 The terminal was broken, or atleast faulty for it never worked. 
 
 So the only thing he had for company was the music player, which had a single song on it. It was called Lonely, by a female artist whose name wasn ’ t on the music player. 
 
 A lonely person listening to a song about loneliness Of course, anyone would get lonely without human contact that long. Lonely, and oh, the arguments. 
 
 The arguments were the other thing he listened to. 
 
 The paper-thin walls, along with the screechy voice of the woman who lived alongside, were why he could hear her arguing with the man she lived with. 
 
 That guy was a sniveling jerk, even the thirteen year old Jonathan knew that. He ’ d even cheated on her, but she couldn ’ t find it in her heart to throw him out. His voice was rusty and creaky, after 2 years of not speaking, but if he could talk to her he would tell her to move away. 
 
 He flopped down on his bed, and went to sleep. The only off switch for his thoughts. Because no matter what he did, his thoughts wouldn ’ t leave him alone. 
 
 
 * “ Jonathan, I ’ m sorry, but you have to go in there. It ’ s for your own safety. Please. ” Her voice was lower, and she said something that chilled his blood. * * “ He ’ ll kill you. ” * 
 
 *She sounded worried, but Jon didn ’ t want to. * 
 
 * “ No. ” * 
 
 *'' What did you say, you little punk? ” * The man ’ s voice was gruff and jarring, and the woman timidly moved to the corner. She was afraid of him. 
 
 * “ I said no. ” His voice resolute. * 
 
 * “ Paul. Stop, you ’ re scaring him. ” The woman was afraid but she was trying her best. * 
 
 * “ Shut up, b\*\*\*\*. Well, you ’ re going in there, if you like it or not. ” * 
 
 * “ NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, PAUL? STOP! ” A scream rent the air as the air was knocked out of her lungs. * 
 
 *When he woke, he was in the room. There was a painful bruise on his chest. The only thing he could remember was that his name was Jonathan. * 
 
 He woke, from his fitful sleep. It was another bad dream. He hated when those happened, he barely dreamed and he didn ’ t like when it was scary or depressing. 
 
 He decided he ’ d try to get that terminal working- if not outside contact, atleast he ’ d be able to play some games? 
 
 He turned it on. 
 
 He didn ’ t expect to get a display working. But he got one. 
 He was amazed; it was blue, and flickery, but it was something. While the insignia on the outside of it had been eroded away by age, this suddenly working non functional monolith had not forgotten. It said: 
 
 **** COMMODORE 64 BASIC V2 **** 
 64K RAM SYSTEM 38911 BASIC BYTES FREE 
 READY. 
 He didn ’ t know what to press next, so he tried typing in random stuff, because they ’ d learnt BASIC at school two years ago, in 1995. But that was on a different PC, not this thing, so he didn ’ t know if it worked. Why was it even here? 
 
 **** COMMODORE 64 BASIC V2 **** 
 64K RAM SYSTEM 38911 BASIC BYTES FREE 
 READY. 
 HELLO 
? SYNTAX ERROR 
 WIN 
? SYNTAX ERROR 
 
 
 Ergh, what the hell? This terminal was broken. He knew a little about computers and realized this was a Commodore 64, and not a terminal like he had thought. 
 
 Something flashed through his memory. Six months ago… 
 
 The paper. 
 
 *If you have an old PC like a Commodore 64, you can still use it! 
 To use the tape drive, type in LOAD and press RETURN. Then, press play on the tape drive. * 
 
 **** COMMODORE 64 BASIC V2 **** 
 64K RAM SYSTEM 38042 BASIC BYTES FREE 
 READY. 
 LOAD 
 PRESS PLAY ON TAPE 
 
 The screen changed. 
 
 PAUL ROCKWELL CBM-COMM v3.12 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 > 
 
 He didn ’ t know who Paul was, or what CBM-COMM was. 
 
 He tried for a help menu. 
 
 PAUL ROCKWELL CBM-COMM v3.12 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 > HELP 
 
 For a general information listing, press 1. 
 For a listing of all commands, press 2. 
 
 > 1 
 
 Paul Rockwell CBM-COMM is a communication program for the Commodore 64. 
 Please ensure the FM card is plugged in before proceeding. 
 
 He didn ’ t know what that was, but there was something sticking out of the back and he thought that must be it. 
 
 > 2 
? MSG to send a message 
? SOS to broadcast a help message 
? EXIT TO QUIT 
 
 
 He typed in 
 
 > /SOS 
 
 Suddenly: 
 
 SYSTEM CRITICAL 
 CAN NOT HANDLE EXCEPTION: 
 E12: OUT OF MEMORY 
 
 The screen went dark. 
 
 He decided, screw it. It was a broken machine, worked one in five times anyway. 
 
 He turned around to play Lonely, and he saw a cookie on the floor. 
 
 He thought someone slipped it through the peephole, but he wasn ’ t sure. 
 
 This was the third cookie in three days. 
 
 They had been coming, suddenly, after 3 days ago the woman had an argument with the man. She ’ d told him to leave, and something he didn ’ t understand. To give her the keys. Keys to what? 
 
 It had been a terrible argument, with shouting and screaming. 
 
 * “ MAYBE YOU SHOULD GET A JOB, YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT! ” * 
 
 ** “ You work, don ’ t you? That ’ s enough. Because it ’ s all my money. Oh, and you haven ’ t given me your paycheck yet. ” ** 
 
 * “ WELL, I WON ’ T. GET OUT PAUL. YOU HAVEN ’ T HAD A JOB FOR THREE YEARS AND YOU LOCKED HIM UP! ” * 
 
 ** “ The world owes Paul Rockwell a debt, so shut up. It ’ s not my fault I was fired. ” ** 
 
 * “ WELL F\*\*\* YOU PAUL! GET THE F\*\*\* OUT. AND GIVE ME THE KEYS YOU MISERABLE SHIT! ” * 
 
 ** “ NOPE. I ’ m out of here. ” ** 
 
 *Then only sobbing could be heard. * 
 
 & nbsp 
 
 *FROM SOMEWHERE, A TRANSMISSION: * 
 
... -- -... /... -- -... /... -- -... / -.-. -- - -- -.-. -.... -..- -.... /... -- --....-.-.-.. -- -....- -- -.. -- -.. / -. /. -- --.. -- -. -- --.-.-.- -- -......- -- -- - -- -- - /. /. --..-. -- - --..-..- -- / -..-. --.. -..- -. -.. 
 
 *John Gardner woke up as his HAM radio beeped to life. The Morse code printer he ’ d jury-rigged to work with the radio began to show a printout. * 
 
 *He quickly read it. The message was: * 
 
 SOS SOS SOS COORDINATES 37.2488 N 121.8400 E PROGRAM TERMINATED 
 
 *He quickly called 9-1-1. An SOS over radio could be serious. * 
 
 *At 37.2488 N 121.8400 E: * 
 
 Jon heard a thud, and suddenly a hole opened in the ceiling. He didn ’ t know what was going on, as the light blinded him. 
 
 A man in cop clothes dropped from the hole. 
 
 He asked what his name was. He answered, “ Jonathan. ” 
 
 And then it all came back to him. 
 
 
 Edits: Formatting 
 
 Thanks DoorToDecember this was my first prompt glad it was so great
