Seven days. Only seven days. My life fell into the deepest, darkest pits of an inferno filled with only pain and suffering in only seven days. Some people call this place Hell. I, however, call it Reality. Now, it seems like Reality is catching up with me.
I’m sitting here, in an unknown cubical in an unknown office building belonging to an unknown company. I have locked all the doors I could find in order to buy myself some time, fore I fear that I don’t have much left. Although I can’t hear them, I know that they’re in the building. They know that I am hiding in here, and they aren’t about to let their next meal get away.
I have no doubt in my mind that I’m going to die here. There is no escape for me now, nowhere to run or hide. I only want to live long enough so that I can finish writing this. My hope is that someone will find this and expose it to the world so that this won’t happen again. However, I admit, the chances of that happening are slim, but I have to try. Also, there is always the possibility that the IBPJ will cover this whole thing up before anyone finds out.
So, it is here, in my final resting place, that I make my last stand. Let us only hope that it does not end in vein.
