Day 1

Or maybe it's day 2? Who cares? I'm still angry about Neyla. I felt things about her that I didn't even write down in this book. I trusted her, I cared about her. It's like a friend offering you help, you let you guard down for 5 seconds, and they stab you in back. Over and over and over. And Carmelita, too. I knew that they probably didn't get along, but she sent her superior to jail. Carmelita was so innocent, would never break the law, and dedicated all her time to her job. None of the other officers said anything as she was taken away. None of them whispered to each other, as if doubting Neyla. All of them looked shocked. All of them knew it seemed odd for Carmelita to do something like that. All of them knew she wanted nothing more than to see me behind bars, none of them said a word.

Day 2

The food here is terrible. I'm not even kidding. If you put someone in "the hole" I thought you were supposed to feed them as little as possible. And this isn't bad as in "jail bad", this is bad as in someone tried to make it taste good or "some balanced" diet thing. Key word: tried. It's incredibly cold, and I learned the hard way from yesterday, if you don't eat, you're in trouble. I was force-fed. Painfully. I'm not sure why I resisted so much, probably because I just didn't feel like listening. But I'm paying the price, I have eaten 2 days worth of food, and my throat hurts from being almost chocked.

Day 3

I can't stand it anymore. This sucks. It's pretty high-security, so there's no way out. I miss my friends, I miss being free, and I miss being chased by Carmelita. I just want to get out more than anything. Maybe I can escape. But on my way here, I noticed some guards circling around like mad. There are virtually no blind spots. And I can't check for any because I'm in "the hole".

Day 4

Nothing much to say here, just sitting around, bored. Playing tic-tac-toe in the dirt with myself. They don't call it "solitary confinement" for nothing. It's so boring, sometimes I feel pain in my chest, the crushing loneliness is overbearing. I might even go mad. This is just crazy. I can't get out to stretch my legs; I can't talk to anyone, look forward to anything, just sit in the darkness and eat terrible food. I need an escape plan, but Bentley's the one who comes up with these things; my plans are terrible and flawed. Bentley doesn't consider them to be plans, just "ideas" or "suggestions". No way I could find a way out of jail on my own.

Day 5

I'm still working on the escape. I'm recalling every movie I ever saw on escaping out of prison. Which is like, 4 of them, but I still have to draw up everything I can think of.

Day 6

Still no idea, but this food is terrible, I feel a bit dizzy. Actually, VERY dizzy. And exhausted, even though whenever I can't think of anything, I just go to sleep.

Day 7

I feel more and more dizzy everyday. It isn't nausea, I don't feel like I might throw up, just dizzy, and unalert. The guard who brings me my food was yelling "hey" at me for about 5 minutes before I noticed him. I'm getting a bit worried.

Day 9

I didn't feel like writing yesterday. Too sick, and busy. I'm getting out of here, one way or another!

Day 10

I spent all day after that last entry thinking up things. I've got a good one! I will dig out! Yes, it may take a while, maybe a few days, but I can dig out. And if any guards come after me, I'll fight them!

Day 11

Digging's working, I dug with my bare hands all day yesterday. The guy who brought me my food noticed, but he didn't say anything. Maybe he's rotting for my escape. He seemed worried, but I assured him that I would get out of here!

Oh my god. I'm looking back at what I wrote and realized that I was losing it. Big time. Digging out? That's crazy! I can't believe I actually wrote something nuts like that. I guess it's the stress and feeling of betrayal. Bentley came; he busted a train car through the brick wall around where I was. The guard must've forgotten to lock the entrance to the hole, because I pushed the door right off. I could barley make it to the place he found to hide out. He told me I was acting confused and excited. He didn't blame me; solitary confinement does that to people. As soon as I made it back, I began to talk. A lot. And he also told me I seemed weak and couldn't stand up correctly. He convinced me to get some rest and relax. I did. I passed out for like, 20 hours. That amazed me how long it took me to wake up. I feel better, a lot better. Any longer, and I'd have been sent away to a mental asylum. I still can't believe what I was thinking? Digging? I feel bad for the guard who checked up on me, if I had to visit a crazy guy everyday, I'd quit. I hear Bentley coming back, I'll write more later.