I can’t believe it was an accident. And I don’t really know why I’m writing in a dead man’s diary.
I can’t believe I just admitted he was dead. I wasn’t sure I believed the others until I just wrote that. Now I know that I know he’s dead.
So what was I writing? Oh I was saying I didn’t know why I was writing in here except. I suppose I do. I was going to write that I thought it wasn’t an accident. But now I know it wasn’t. He knew he was going to fall down the Eustachian tube. He was trying to save us. And it might have worked.
We are making good progress. It’s easier on the bigger rations but it’s harder without him.
We used to call him Captain Oates after all those oatcakes he used to eat each night. Now it doesn’t seem like the best way to refer to him. His real name was Lawrence. Although I never heard anyone use it. He told me what it was last night. After the first time we had – what was his phrase – known each other.
I’m not sure if I should write this part. This next bit. Because. Well. It doesn’t make me look very good in the company’s light. Or any light. I’m scared to write it but I have to.
I faked it.
I faked the endorphin rush.
I just wanted an excuse to break the ice. And it seemed the best way to do it. I never meant for anyone to be hurt. I promise I never meant for any of this to happen. And now I’m as scare pf getting out and facing up to what’s happened as I am scared of being stuck in here forever.