Log from August 12th:
I’ve crossed the border by bus, and the moment I did, I shredded my passport. I cannot return home, and the less identification I have, the better. I will not say where I am, exactly, but I’ve at least managed to find a motel that will take me in for free, tonight.
The owners of the motel are a middle-aged couple, both marked with red. Their only request for letting me stay was to help me praise the Mistress. It was awkward, and I’m exhausted, but a lot safer than I would be, camping out on the street again.
I feel like there’s a constant presence in the darkness, just watching me. I sometimes think I can feel something breathing down my neck, but it’s in my imagination. I’m sleeping with the lights on, tonight.