Klempner
The lighting failed with the flood, and just as when Juliana first imprisoned me here, I’m left with only the green blinker of the camera light. The camera is presumably ‘reporting’ somewhere, but who knows to where? Juliana’s phone maybe. In any case, it’s lost.
No hope of rescue.
No hope of escape.
My precious resources scattered.
Juliana’s corpse, bloated and rotting, grins at me from the far side of my prison, ironically, more or less where she chose to sit when she was alive. The cadaver is gradually disintegrating, but it’s being helped along by the few rats that have returned.
The scores and hundreds that fled the inundation have not returned, but in ones and twos, I see them reappear, drawn I suppose by what remains of Juliana: easy pickings. I suppose once that food
