My tormentors have devised a new form of sleep deprivation torture. Their leader, the short redhead, alternates between the sweet, communicative child I thought I was living with earlier this week and the SCREAMING BANSHEE CHANGELING I now know I am dealing with. Today I was allowed broken sleep until 4:00 in the morning, at which time my options were to be awake or be awake AND SCREAMED AT. Naturally I chose to be screamed at, though I am now thinking that may have been the wrong choice. I was forced to go through the refrigerator, offering various foods only to have each one summarily rejected with a piercing scream of indignation, my god how could I offer PEANUT BUTTER DON’T I KNOW THAT IS POISON? Frozen strawberries bought me about five minutes, but I have run out and the physical beatings have commenced. I will try to write again but fear that my time is short.