I can make it to the sunrise. I can make it to the sunrise. I can make it to the sunrise.
I kept telling myself this every night since my imprisonment here. I was imprisoned here 3 months ago and so far, I have survived. These past few months I have had time to think, but now I also know fear. I did not know this fear before; I'm guessing this is how my victims felt when I slit their throats and stole their most precious belongings. I'm not normal though, never have been. When I was 14 I killed for the first time, just so I could feed my starving stomach. I slit that shopkeeper's throat too. If he hadn't of caught me stealing that bread, he would be still breathing. Then I got caught. The man who caught me was no saint. He didn't take me into the authorities. Instead he took me in; he trained me to be the best. Now look at me, stuck in this hell hole of a place just because I got betrayed. I still wonder by whom, wonder who sold me out. Caught again and this time by a saint. I don't know which one I hate more. Not much I can do about it now, I'm stuck in here. Its work time, I guess I better go.
Today's date: 26/4/1668
Place: Prison camp 12
Written by: Prisoner White Nickson.
Charged for: Theft and Murder.
BINABASA MO ANG
Prison Diary
Historical FictionMy name is White Nickson and I was caught doing what I do best, but I wasn't sloppy and I know that I couldn't of been caught that easily. Someone had to have betrayed me. Now I am in prison and this is my diary to my life there.
