Disclaimer: I do not own V for Vandetta or take any responsibility for the comics or movie, but Jennifer Hammond is my own original character.
A note to the reader:
We believe that this is the second entry of Jennifer Hammond's diary, and have labeled it as such. Unfortunately, there may or may not be missing entries between this one and the previous entry, and it is regretfully that we at the British Restoration Society must say that we will most likely never know.
Entry Two
I'm not sure how much more time I have until Amahirst closes, but I almost hope that it's soon. Now that we know we're going to die, we've mostly given up, and I know that more than a few of us have chosen to die on their own rather than at the hands of the interrogators. The woman in the cell across the hall from me died of starvation—she refused the little food that was granted to her. I heard the interrogators arguing with the guards when she was dragged from her cell.
I can only pray that my death will be swift and brief, but I doubt that the interrogators will grant us that luxury. There are rumors floating around that we might just be kept in our cells after the facility closes so that the government won't have to deal with disposing of our bodies. I don't want to die of starvation, and if I have the choice, I don't want to die. I want to see Evey once more, and I want to tell her that I love her.
I'll never forget the sight of her terrified face hiding under the bed as they pulled the black bag over my head…
Enough of this. I'm just depressing myself, writing about where I am now. Perhaps… Maybe one day I'll be back in my home, with my family, but for now, I will tell you a little bit more about myself.
When I turned ten, my brother Jonathan disappeared. Mother didn't know where he had gone, and my father was furious. I was heartbroken. My oldest brother, my hero, my role model was gone. Tomas did his best to comfort me, to make me forget about him, but I know now that he was trying to comfort himself as much as me.
I would climb our oak tree and look out over the city as I cried and waited for Jonathan to come home. My mother eventually died after a stroke that crippled her, leaving only Tomas and my Father to raise me. Father worked in with the M16, and after Mother died, he wasn't really home. He made enough money to pay taxes, feed us, and to buy us new clothes and presents, but Father was never really there.
It was the day I turned fifteen when I learned that Tomas had been killed by the radical group that would one day make Sutler the Supreme Chancellor of Great Britain, and my life was never again ever the same.