Journal Entry 23

17. September 2022

It has been two years since I sat at my desk and wrote in my journal. During my disappearance, I was confined to the basement of a dilapidated residence in the northern village of Rüdersdorf, Dorstenland. A heavy metal clasp with a chain that extended to the wall was attached to my ankle from the moment I arrived. My food consisted of scraps from the meals my abductors ate. I can count on one hand the number of meals untouched by the mouths of those who kept me.

I became numb to the stench that came from a bucket containing my urine and feces. The bodily waste emptied only once a week. With their faces covered except for the holes that showed their eyes and mouths, the two men and one woman would sometimes tighten my ankle’s restraint and watch in pleasure as I recoiled in pain. Their voices still echo in my mind, even while I sleep. 

I remember vividly the night I awoke in the darkened basement to a ruckus of sounds from the room above me. I knew the day would come when I took my last breath. I conceded defeat and closed my eyes. In my mind’s eye, I saw my wife and children. They were smiling and laughing. I was at peace. But then, there was blackness, and I could no longer see or hear my family. Suddenly, I listened to the stomps of footsteps running down the basement’s wooden stairs. I curled into a fetal position while waiting for the final painful blow. With my eyes squinted, I looked around the room and saw nothing but the light from a flashlight scanning the large room. Seconds later, the light blinded my eyes, and I begged for the kidnappers to have mercy on my children, wherever they were. Then, the room’s only lightbulb, which hung from a wooden beam, came to life.