Journal 3

I want to go home. It has been a long, awful day. This is not the new life I was promised. I keep pinching myself hoping I will wake up from this nightmare. I can’t sleep even though I am exhausted. I am finding it difficult to get comfortable at night because everything aches and it is difficult to sleep on a cold dirt floor. The guards get enjoyment in disturbing our rest period. They walk over us and deliberately kick someone. The guards kicked me in the shoulder, yelled at me and hit me with a stick because I was in the way. I looked at the guard in protest and he beat me for my rudeness. The guards made me kneel for the rest of the night.

I am so hungry. The guards eat continuously throughout the day. They walk among us and brag about how full they are. If my thoughts could kill all the guards would be dead. We are teased with food; I have seen several of the other slaves walk away with a guard and come back later with a piece of fruit or bread. They are surviving the best they can. I am not going down that road. I think I would prefer to die.

I spent the first part of the day digging up rocks. After my midday stale biscuit, the guards transferred me to work on the wall.