It's late. I've lost my first entry, but it doesn't matter. I'll be here forever. I don't even know why I'm here. I can see the people across the long gap in the metal floor. They are sad too. I wish I was home. But my parents are dead, so what's the point?
JULY 23, LATER
The light is getting brighter. I think it's becoming morning. I'm lucky. They haven't fed us in 3 days, since we got here. I wish this never happened. The only furniture in here is a bed, so I've got to be careful and hide my journal when the guards come.
JULY 24
There is talk of a fire, and I had a dream about it. The fire, I mean. I wish we could leave. I hate it here. I hate everything here. What went wrong?
JULY 27
I hid my journal, but I couldn't find it, until now.
