This morning was freezing; he brought in a pressure hose and sprayed us down, as if bathing livestock. When he left the door open for a little to breathe the room, I noticed the north-east corner of the basement had all the liquid running towards it. So the room isn’t perfectly level. The waste matter had run next to me, and it was all I could smell. He left us for what I estimated to be three hours with the door open, we spent a while screaming to see if there was anyone to save us, but it doesn’t even seem as though there’s anyone around to hear us anyway. Turns out Darrell still had his keys in his pocket, he’d been trying to find a way of picking a lock on the shackles, but he soon realised there was no lock to pick; just a stud that he’d need to pop.
