There are people in the walls. I can hear them breathing. They don't know I'm here. Not yet. The water was black. I remember that. I remember the weight of my hair against my face. The taste of it in my mouth. Above me, someone moved a chair across the floor. Such an ordinary sound. I kept listening long after they had gone. Now you are watching. I can see the light from the screen reflected in your eyes. You look away when I get close. You think I can't see you when you do that. I can. Seven days. You have seven days. You keep looking for the reason. You keep looking for a way out. I used to listen for someone coming to get me. Now I listen for you. You paused the tape. Why? It's only a picture. You rewound it. You watched the well again. You wanted to see what happened to me. I wonder what you would do if you saw what happened behind you. Don't turn around. No. Not yet. I want you to keep looking at the screen. That's better. I used to think the dark was the worst part. I was wrong. The worst part was knowing someone was there... and hearing them walk away. I'm not in the well anymore. Look at the screen.
