DL6 exhibit C

DL6-  Exhibit C       Journal found near victim.

I have, in finding this book, decided to document the events.
Should I die, this will at least be a record.

If you are reading this, one of two things have happened.
You have either rescued me, and found this book in the process, in which case, do not give this book to me , as it will only spur trauma.
Otherwise... give it to the police.

I woke up tied to a chair, The room was dimly lit, so I was unable to see my surroundings.
A Throbbing Pain attacked my head. There was a hair in my mouth, so I spat it out.
With it came blood, upon further investigation I discovered that I was missing several teeth, and that my mouth was also suffering a dire affliction.
I am weak as a kitten, as though this has already been going on for several days.

My short term memory is completely blank, There was once something there, I felt, but it had been erased.

At my lap I found an empty book and pen, obviously planted, but the reason I know not.
“Why, but why, would any malicious madman make the mistake of allowing me to tell tales of my torture?”, I thought. Perhaps he would gain some sick pleasure in reverie of my misery.

Whatever his reason, I felt compelled to recount my misfortune in the book, so I tried to grab it, but simultaneously recalled that my arms were constrained. I began to struggle against the ties, which were not to budge. In blind fury I ripped my arms from the constriction.
The binds were rough and fast, and as such, while my arms are free, they are covered in ghastly scars. In fact, the scars are strangely prevalent, more so than one lashing of the rope could bring, though they are all of the same style.

I lift the book and begin to recount the horror, there is already writing present, but it is illegible due to lashings of blood. The blood is discomforting due to the circumstances, so I change to a fresh page without thought, or attempt to make out the writing.

And that is where we stand at present. I have no plan as to how to move forward from here, so I will think.
An Idea has struck, my jaw is lifted and I am about to strike the chair with it. Icannot help but procrastinate, but this is the only way. Here I go...

Blood is torrenting  from my mouth, my vision is fading, some blood has spilled on to the pages, I hope my writing is still legible.

A brief glimmer from my memory, a sense of deja vu, I chase this fading memory, if I could only catch it, it would surely speak volumes about how I got here. I am running after it at full pelt, It is only a speck in the distance but I am hoping. No, it is gone, whatever memory was trying to surface is gone. All I know is that there is familiarity with what just happened.
Yes, the mouth pain has been felt before, a very similar sensation, recently, I am sure.

I am drifting out of consciousness, the blood loss it too great, it is combined with the fact that I would do nearly anything to escape this nightmare, even if I must die.
Tears drip down my face, mixing with the blood, they fall red, hopelessness and despair infill me.

Yes, perhaps it it best that I would faint, it seems the only way out.
NO!, I will continue my endeavour. a burst of confidence, with it defiance, I will not go without a fight.

I remember my objective in this self-infliction, I grasp furiously with my hands, somewhere, surely, rests my prize.

I find a tooth, as I had hoped, I instantly begin to fumble with the rope, maybe the tooth can cut it, and I will be free!



What feels to have been several hours later, I am critically weak, and no progress has been made with the rope.
I once again feel my consciousness slipping away. I am grateful, I am relieved. I will do anything for even a brief escape from this unhallowed torment. I end my resistance.