9. Heatwave.

My throat is hoarse and dry from all my screaming and crying. Forvwhst was probably my first hour out here, I went into repetitive panic attacks. The dark and the dead bodies making me even more terrified than I already was. I can hardly see, didn't want to see them, but paranoia convinced me if i looked away they'd move.

Sweat trickles all over me, making my skin crawl with the need to wipe it away, but it's hard to maneuver my hands on such short restraints. It's hot. So hot I can hardly breathe, and my dry throat feels like it might close off any seconds. It's hard to make out anything, even though it must still be daylight out, the barn is so dark. I get only a hairline crack of light through the boards.

Did I mention that it's the temperature of the sun in here? The heater of whatever sort, and the spring sunshine acts like an incubator inside the barn. I'm sure I'll die before he returns. The heat only amplifies the stench of death,