Valenbourg, Friday, 10 March
Please, let me out. Can anyone hear me? I'm starving. My stomach hurts.
I'd like to eat a cherry pie. I like cherry pies. They're yummy and tasty and they're my favorite. Can't I taste the cherry pie?
Cherries. The scent of cherries. I can almost taste them. Laughter. The sound of the other children's laughter. I can almost reach them.
Dust invades my nose, my throat, and I cough.
Squeak. Squeak.
The mice. I hear them. They are my only company in the room. The dark, cramped room. Was I ever alive, or have I already died long ago?
I long for warmth. The blanket does not offer much warmth. I want real warmth. The warmth outside. Where the other children are playing and laughing.
Where is the heat? It's waiting for me outside. But I'm too cold to move. My limbs are numb. My head is pounding. My stomach is aching.
If I fall asleep now, will I still wake up like yesterday? But that was only because someone offered me a warm candle in secrecy. The candle had burned my fingers, but I didn't mind. But now, that person is gone. And the candle has run out of wax.
Please, let me out. I don't want to be asleep forever. I want to eat cherry pies and play with the other children. In here, I'll turn blue, then die. All alone.
I don't want to be alone.