Log from August 29th:
I tossed the bag again, only for it to reappear every morning since then. I’m going crazy – every time I pass people, I swear I hear them whispering about me. It’s as if they know.
And I feel that goddamn presence, watching me and following me everywhere and I can’t. I can’t deal. I need help.
If my Mistress sees this, I beg of you; come back to me. I’m not safe, without you. I know they’re all just waiting for the perfect opportunity, even though they have yet to touch me. It’s like their perching at the back of my brain and slowly scraping grey matter away.
I’m crying, now…please. Mistress, please. Don’t leave me alone.