Lost hope today
I was captured, again, today. I had fallen asleep in the warehouse. I don’t know for how long. When I woke it was dark, and I could barely move. I ached from my cuts and bruises, and had not eaten in … I don’t know. For a while.
Note to Self: Stop complaining Rhonda!
I could see some light. It was torches, and I thought I was rescued. Then I heard the voices. The same guttural mouth-mess. The same coarse words in the same foul dialect. It was the same bastards that had been my jailors. That’s when I knew it was over, and I was done.
They started by getting my attention, by jamming the hot-end of one of the torches onto my arm. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that kind of pain before. Lucky for me, it was not my writing arm.
Then they dragged me about a mile to this new place, wherever it is. I guess it was too much trouble to carry me. I’m writing this while they talk to the boss to find out what to do with me. I’m hoping someone will find it after I’m gone.
They’re coming back.