Starting in the middle is harder than I thought it would be. Trying to remember the past few days is difficult for me. I don’t have much of a memory which is why I am blogging now.
Before I continue, I think I should provide a little detail about my underground system. It’s an “end of the world” bunker in a way. Not the common “prepper” bunker but a torture bunker, resulting in ending “their” world. We are about 13 feet underground in a couple of Zircons. The main room is 40′ long x 8′ wide and 8’6″ high. There are 2 separate rooms which are the cells where I keep my guests, they are about 7′ x 7′ x 7′. There isn’t running water but I do have electricity thanks to an extension cord. The access to the facility is underneath my shed, which looks like a normal yard shed.
Oh, I have an autopsy table, which is a real autopsy table. I picked it up at an auction in Texas a few years ago. I have been planning these events for a while now. I had to modify it a little because I use a bucket for the drainage, but that’s the only change. I have other tools that are in storage. If you stick around long enough, I’ll bring them out.
Should we continue with Blue’s story? (Read Day 1 Here)
June 3rd through the 9th.
On the morning of the 3rd, Blue was awake and surprisingly calm. He was just sitting there waiting, for me, I assumed. lol, who else would he be waiting for. Anyway, I grabbed my chair from my desk, rolled it closer and sat in front of his door, waiting for him to start talking. It went something like this…
Who the fuck are you?
My name is Travis.
Why am I here?
You beat your girlfriend to death. ****she’s not dead, in a coma, but not dead****
She was alive when I left.
You mean after you beat the shit out of her.
Yea, but she was alive. She’s tough and can take it. Hell, she likes the attention.
Are you fucking kidding me? Do you really think she likes being beat?
So she’s alive? You said likes, not liked.
Yea, she is alive, but in a coma.
So if she’s alive then why am I here?
Cause your still an asshole that beats women.
Who fucking cares what I do to my bitches? I’ll fuckin kill a bitch and nobody can stop me.
Yet here you are.
Fuck you, I’ll kill your punk ass. Come here, bitch.
I had enough.
I spent the next few minutes in silence listening to him talk and eventually, he started getting irritated and tried to break out. I decided to move my chair back to my desk and play some video games. I needed to till some pixels before I killed Blue before it was time. I am getting really go at making the comment “that didn’t go over very well” cause he got a bit louder.
This went on for a few days with Blue getting calmer and calmer, or weaker and weaker. I do feed them but not very much. You really get a sense of how much crap comes out of a person when you have to pack that shit out. Pun intended.
Speaking about the bathroom, I provide a pan for them to defecate into. So far the guests have been using it to my surprise. At least they don’t act like caged monkeys in every sense. In case you don’t know what I am talking about, monkeys will throw their poop.
I think that’s enough for today. Time to proofread and do some editing. Blogging is a lot harder than I thought it would be. For one, the guests don’t really do much, but we are getting close to hell week. Starting Monday… well you will just have to keep reading to see what happens Monday. So far, Hell week is my favorite week. Oh, the mind games.
Ok, I need to stop, just thinking about hell week is getting me all giddy. lol, giddy. whatever.