26 Sunday 5 August, 9.20am
I think I managed to get some sleep. I don’t know how much, but it wasn’t a lot. If I wasn’t physically lying awake I was tossing and turning. By the time I’d managed to relax my mind and stop torturing myself about everything, I was struggling to get comfortable on the horrendous blue plastic mattress in my cell.
Every time I nodded off there’d be a bang, or a clattering of a cell door, or someone shouting and screaming somewhere along the corridor.
I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I shouldn’t be here. Even the food’s horrendous and devoid of flavour. They brought me breakfast about an hour ago. I couldn’t even work out what half of it was meant to be. If I stay here much longer I’m likely to starve to death.
Before I can worry about that too m
