Entry 1

Only days ago the streets were a cacophony of sound, the chatter of voices from the street filtered into my room punctuated by the roar of a hurrying car. The now empty streets leave me alone in a deathly silence. I wish things were as they were with busy streets to sing me to sleep. Instead I lay here afraid the silence will be broken.

I fight to keep my eyes open. The sparse moments of sleep are laced with nightmares of the dead and dying. Each time I awake I have a brief moment of hope it was only a nightmare. Instead all hope is shattered as I remember they are not nightmares but memories. I am writing so I can postpone the inevitable trip through hell followed by a moment of cruel hope when I again jolt awake.

I am trapped with my nightmares and memories, alone in the prison which is my apartment. I cannot yet gather the courage to glimpse outside to see what lays in wait were I to open my door. That small, thin piece of wood separates me from a world which cannot be mine. I fear I am alone. No rescue will come. No one is left.