June 6, 2018
Hello Journal once again. I tried to break off a prong of the fork I was given today, but I am just too weak and tired. Today they gave me the usual meal they give to me whenever they feel I need "nourishment." Old moldy bread from their kitchens and mop water they used in the foyer on the first floor. It was although satisfying considering they have not given me anything for about a three days now. But although i failed today, I realized something. The bars on my cell are actual giving a little. But there is still no way to break them. It would take many more years and I just don't have that time. I'm so very tired of being stuck down here. The only light I have is from the dimmed electrical lights on the walls dotted around this floor. I did however find a sharpener for my new pencil on today's' morning guard, John. The man is a lazy oaf and it was all to easy to reach through these bars and grab it while it was on the tables' edge. My arms can now actually pass through them. I was fit and in shape once. But now look at me. I can't even see myself let alone imagine what horror I have become. Though that one question of "how on Earth am I to get out of this Hell" passes through my mind and engulfs me more than my hunger now. That thought of hope that I hold onto is the only thing I have to keep me preoccupied in this place. They did not hold a session today. I was all to relieved when they told me. The Hooded Man is much more terrifying than any nightmare any man could experience. I can't face him, but they force me too. The guards pin me down and force me to answer to his trivial questions of my past. I do not answer. Not because I am a fool, but because I do not want to think about the past I led. When I do not answer, they beat me with their fists and burn me with their cigarettes and cut my skin with their knives . Maybe they want to give me time to heal so they can continue to burn me and cut me to ribbons. Journal, thank you for listening to my rambles. You are the only one in this place I can talk with. This alone is comforting enough to me. But nowhere near the amount of joy and comfort I felt around Ellen. The woman I loved and wanted oh so badly to care for and grow old with. They pry into my life I led with her. But I still do not answer them. Only God knows what these demons of men have in store for me tomorrow and days after. Oh if only you were alive and had the eyes to look into my bloodstained and corpse ridden cell and to gaze upon this destroyed figure of a man. If only you had the mouth to speak wisdom and courage to my ears, eager to listen to another speak kindly to me once again. But i must go now. Jeremiah is waking up. He will certainly be even more angry he was put on duty to watch me again two days in a row. I must prepare for a beating again. Farewell for now my friend.