Oh Christ! This is NOT good. Oh no, oh hell no. This cannot be happening! My hands are slamming against the heavy wooden lid, my nails dragging at the velvet there. I can feel the large staples pulling at my nails, making them bleed. It doesn’t smell like blood.
I go to scream, I think I can since the water’s gone…my mouth is stitched shut. It’s way too dark in here, my mind’s going crazy. Maybe if I just shut my eyes – NO – bad idea. I can feel the maggots when I do that. I can’t really see all that well, it hurts to try and open my eyes. And I can only come up with a mmmpph sound when I try to scream.
I am so screwed.
This makes me miss the rotting smell and the peeling skin, at least I could breathe. This box smells like death. Maybe that’s me. Maybe that’s what I’ve been smelling for the past few weeks; my soul, heart and mind being consumed by the blackness. Maybe my body was last. Either way, I’m going to once more be worm food. I am defiantly not leaking blood.
I’m just going to close my eyes.

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