I am going crazy. I know that I am. All the others who are here are going crazy, too. I hear them scream, during the day, and throughout the night. I've never seen anyone of the other prisoners. But there must be at least ten others, in cells which are right next to mine, down the hallway.
They aren't screaming of pain, at least most of them. I know how a painful cry sounds like. They are shouting out loud because they're losing their sanity, and I can really understand this. It's hard to stay sane, in such a small cell, with no prospect of freedom, no prospect of being released, no human contact, nobody to talk to, not even enough space to stand up and walk around. We're being kept like animals.

No- even worse. I'm sure that in most states, people aren't even allowed to keep animals under such bad conditions.

The last time that I've seen daylight... must have been in Sengala. Thereafter, they put me in that sea container again and I ended up here. It's impossible to tell, if it is day or night.

I've been lying in my cell for almost three weeks now, ever since the doctor had said that I was well enough again to be moved here. I've got at least a bit of my former strength back. A week ago, I was able to stand up again, for the first time in months. I didn't let the guards notice that. Whenever they came, I acted like I was hardly able to sit up. The sooner they see me in a better shape again, the sooner they're gonna give me away again, to somebody who's already on the list of people, willing to pay, to get their revenge on me.

I'm trying to get back into shape, and sometimes I don't even know why I'm doing it all.

Maybe to kill time. I can either do something or just lie there. I'm tired of lying there.

Maybe I do it to be able to survive it, when they're gonna let others lay their hands on me again. There were three successful bidders in their auction. I have no illusions that my ordeal could already be over - it isn't, for sure.
That's good - because I'll get the chance to pay, just like I wanted to. I still damn myself for having begged that Sengalan to kill me. I should have to been strong enough to endure it. I have to pay for my sins. Throughout the past years, I've already had much time to think about life and death and every second that I've spent thinking about it, it got clearer to my that I have sinned more than anyone could imagine. I haven't lived a good life. No matter how many people have tried to tell me that most of the things I did had been justified- deep down, I know that they're not right.
The end doesn't justify the means.
I can't even count the times that I've tortured others. Must be a countless number of times. I've gone all the way, just to get information. I didn't care about them one single second. I didn't give them any chance to prove to me that they're innocent or don't even know anything at all. In my mind, I had already convicted them.

Graem was one of them. I killed my own brother. Lately, he's been on my mind quite a few times. I was willing to go to limit and beyond, I didn't care about him, his family, his son, his rights, his probably innocence, not for one second.
Just like the people who'll get their hands on me. They will make me pay. I should be thankful for it. This is my chance to pay for my sins- in this life, so I won't have to pay in the next one.

A few weeks ago, the hurt stopped, even without painkillers. All the superficial wounds which I carried home from that stay in Sengala, they were healed by then. I don't wanna look down on myself, I don't even want to see how I look like. I feel that there must be quite a few more scars, especially on my shoulders and on my arms. They don't make much of a difference, the way my body looks like, already.
A few days thereafter, I started to exercise a little again, to get back some strength. It was hard in the beginning, I wasn't even able to do one single pushup. By now, eight days later, I'm at ten- still far away from the seventy which were no problem at all, before this all started.

I'm out of breath now. That little exercise cost me all the power I had. But that's okay- I'll just wait for an hour and then I can do a little more.

Lying there, I turn to the wall, to read her name again. AUDREY. The letters are staring at me, and I'm staring at them.

This is why I know I'm going crazy: I can see her. It doesn't even take me more than a few minutes, to see her face, instead of the letters on the wall. I can talk to her.

She's not real, I know. But I'm not even fighting it. Is my mind playing tricks on me? Is it drifting away from reality, into some kind of a dream world, a world of memories and thoughts, since I'm locked up in a 20 square feet cell with nothing to do?
I've been on my own for too long. I haven't had any real kind of human contact in five or six months, I guess. The few people who were here to torture me- they didn't even ask questions. They just watched me suffer. This doesn't count as a real human contact.

I guess my mind isn't playing tricks on me. It's trying to give me something to hold on to, just like in China.

God, I know that she's not here. She's six feet under, at the other side of the globe. I've seen the coffin, I've looked into Heller's eyes, standing there, next to it. I had a hard time to bite back the tears.
When he asked me, if I wanted to see her one last time - he would have even opened up the casked for me - I declined. This wasn't how I wanted to keep her in my memory... that beautiful face, lying there, in the casket. I still have that picture in my mind, of seeing Teri lie there like this. I didn't want to see such a picture again, not one of Audrey, too. I wanted to keep her in my memory, like I've always known her.

That's how I see her, now. Happy... a little smile on her face. That picture of hers, it's not real but it's all I have.
In the beginning, I sometimes told myself that this is not real - and as soon as I did that, the picture disappeared. Then, I told her, that she is not real, and the picture disappeared. I don't tell her that any more. I don't tell that myself any more, that she's probably not real.
When she's there, I just tell her hello and try to smile back.

She stretches out her arm and softly lays her hand on my shoulder, telling me that everything's alright, that she'll stay by my side. And I tell her that I love her and close my eyes, treasuring the thought.

I must have really fallen asleep.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway wakes me up again. Like every other time, I hope that they pass my cell and take somebody else. They've already brought me something to eat a few hours ago, so there's no good thing left to expect if they really come to me.

But they come to me.

I know that the period of grace is over now. All three of them are here, with cuffs for my hands and my feet, and the black hood that they put over my head already the last time, when they brought me away.

I have to face it: I'm going back to hell. Am I ready for it? Hell no.

I turn back to the wall, but there are just the letters.

She's not here, when others are here. She's only here when I'm alone with her.

As the guards cuff my legs and my hands and tear me out of my cell, I try to look back for a last time, before they put the black hood over my head.
But I don't get the chance to tell her good-bye before I leave.

They bring me away again. I still remember the way they took last time: two floors down, three turns to the left, a long corridor and then there was an exit to the outside. They take the same way now and push me into some holding cell.

Just like last time, I stumble and fall, realizing that I'm lying on a wooden floor again - it smells like it's the same sea container that I've already been in.
Laboriously, I manage to bring my hands to the front and pull the hood off again.

They've already closed the doors and locked them. The travel starts.

I lie there in the darkness, hoping to see Audrey. That picture of hers is a product of my mind - why can't I see her now? Why only in my cell, and not here, not whenever I want to see her?

I don't have anything in here, what I could write her name with. I can't carve the letters into the walls made of sheet metal. It's so dark in here that I can't even see my own hands before my face.

The container must be on a trailer again, towed by truck. We're jolting over the Russian streets, I have no clue where we're going. No matter where, it's going to be awful.

If I could only take that picture of Audrey along. As hard as I try, I just can't imagine her being here.
If she could only be here, in my thoughts. It wouldn't change a thing but it would make my life so much better.
I miss her.

I really do.