84
CONNOR
I was not allowed to see a TV or listen to a radio. I was not given any newspapers, magazines or books, and I had no computer. I had only my own thoughts with which to occupy myself for hours on end. I knew I’d been there at least four months.
My moods fluctuated wildly. I went from anger to depression to mania to despair in the course of a day. I wanted to kill. I wanted to die. And I wanted to live, to return to my family.
But I knew there was little chance of that happening. It would take something in which I did not believe. It would take a miracle.
I raged at God. “I’m your prophet, am I? What good am I to you here?” I demanded. “If I were your prophet, you would not allow me to be imprisoned this way. How could I possibly be of use to you here?”
And the seizures began
