The Count intercepted my letters before the troupe of workers could make off with them.
I’m dead.
The length of my life
“The first should be June 12, the second June 19, and the third June 29.”
Oh Mina, I don’t think my e-mail reached you at all.
Today the Count asked me to write three e-mails, under his supervision. He looked nearly as angry as the previous night and while I wanted to refuse … how could I? I am a prisoner!
I dated them like so.
A band of workers came to the castle today. I gave them two letters, hoping that they would push them along their way to you, my love, and Pete. It’s been years since I’ve written an actual letter. E-mail is a far more effective method of crying for help.
This blog is private
“Then write now, my young friend. Write to our friend and to any other; and say, if it will please you, that you shall stay with me until a month from now.”
You cannot see these entries, Mina. But god knows I wish you could.
I’m afraid to make any of these entries public. If I do, the Count may see them and may figure out more about my anxiety and fear than I’ve been letting on.
I need to get out of this place. I REALLY need to get out of THIS HOLE. I’ll do anything…
And even though the Count surely can’t read this blog, it was as though he read my mind as today he’s provided me with a chance at escape.
E-mail! I will email Pete and my beloved and hope to god that the Count does not get a chance to read them before I click ’send.’ He wants me to stay in this hole for another month and I dare say … HELL NO!
