In the Hole

Day 14

The guard laughs and forces my hand to write. He states that if I write while I sob that I will avoid his horrid plans. So here I am, whittling this lead pencil down to nothing in an attempt to keep my life.

I fear what will happen now. The darkness has taken so much from my beautiful mind and I can only speculate what it has done to my gorgeous figure. These bony hands are enough though I suppose to prove how ugly I must be becoming.

Please. If you have any equiniti, let me out of this cell. I need sunlight, warmth, ponies. Not these beasts.