Today, I lay here broken... torn to ribbons from the inside out by my captors, both old and new. I am bruised and beaten... I feel terrified and alone. Richard demands retribution... his previous attempts to unwind the fabric failed. This is somehow my fault. I am the reason and his betrayer... yet nothing was done by my hand. Leaving me to clean his soiled linens. When I close my eyes, all I can see are the images flooding my mind of me killing myself... Richard taunting me, assuring me it's the only way out. My death is the only form of redemption and closure. He's grown stronger, and now I'm the weakest one in here... captive, it's my turn now. I fear not the thought of death or the act itself... I've died twice before. What terrifies me is something new... an itching in my chest, unfamiliar feelings and sensations. They cause me brief moments of happiness, and that scares the ever living fuck out of me... happiness is something only found in books and movies. Richard claims it will be the final blow and will surely lead to my undoing... yet he warns me of it? One moment pushing the blade closer and the other running from it entirely... I grow weary with confusion. Diana hasn't been around... not in quite a long time has she whispered words of strength into my ear. I need her to come back and help me determine what is real and deceit. If I stab myself in the chest, I could remove all of the pain... Richard would be pleased and the itching would cease. I've tried to understand this... placed all of the pieces in a row and called them by name. Roll call every hour till noon, then we go inside and play. I just can't do this anymore... something is breaking down. Is it the walls... who's walls? Where's my fucking lullaby?
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