I don’t know where I am.
I allowed Arthur to pull me across the ground for a short while so I could get away from the sounds of shrieking, but when I eventually tried to get up Arthur wasted no time in punching me in the face again. While stunned, he bound my hands and wrapped some sort of cloth around my face so I couldn’t see where we were going.
He didn’t bother to untie me when we got to our destination. He just pushed me inside some sort of small wooden shed, although I eventually managed to free myself. Not that I can do anything – it’s dark in here, and he bolted the door from the outside.
Arthur guarded me for a few hours, then someone else came to relieve him.
I still have my bag with all of my things in it, including this diary. There is a narrow shaft of light coming through a crack in the wall, so I can just about see well enough to write.
It smells coppery in here. Like blood.
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