19

BABY

The notion that I am being watched has fully taken over my mind, driving me insane. This is much worse than being in Charles's clutches; I'm constantly afraid that Charles or his men will come for me. The pressure is never-ending.

I can't sleep. I can't eat properly. I stay in the tub and stare blankly on the wall.

If not on the wall I stare most of the time at the Nanogex IV bag, just sitting on top of an old table with no chairs that came with the house.

The hospital nurse had this in a bag for me before I left. I was informed that I was clutching it tight when someone found me.

I close my eyes and pray for a single tear. "Come on, cry, get it out," I yell at myself. I can't even weep, despite my best efforts; not a single tear has fallen from my eyes.

I'm not sure what's going on with me, but the way I'm acting is clearly a condition of shock, or am I suffering from some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder? Whatever the case may be, it must be managed. It's something I'