I slapped at the bricks in front of me “Funny,” I shouted, waiting for a reply, but nothing came. I lay my back against the damp wall, tears began running down my face. I began to wonder how long it would be before I died. Minutes? Hours? Days even? “Montossieur! You’ve had your sick joke! Free me! Please?” I cried. Knowing no answer would come. I was running out of oxygen fast, I could feel the air thinning as I breathed it in. Asphyxiation was never how I wanted to die.
I reached for the dagger in my right shoe. Taking it, I slowly traced the word “Help” on my chest, blood began seeping through my clothes. Finally, I took the blade and thrust it as deep as I could manage into my stomach. The pain was unbearable. But still I drew the blade up through my gut, then down, then side to side. I pulled the blade out, letting all my organs slide out of my dying body.