I got lost.

I kept thinking about what Rachel had said at the appointment. About going to the clinic. I imagined turning up there with the same notebook and trying to explain everything to someone who'd never met me.

I wanted to bring her something she could look at without having to believe me first.

So I took the camera back down.

The plan was to get through to the house, film as much as I could and bring something home. A newspaper, something from a store. I had cash in my coat and empty space in the bag for whatever I found.

I packed enough food and water to reach the supplies I'd left inside. I thought I knew the route.

I couldn't find the first lamp. Kept going, looking along both sides of the corridor. The others were gone too.

At the stairs, there was nothing. No containers, no batteries. I searched around the bottom with the flashlight, then went back up a few steps to make sure I'd come down in the right place.

Even the marks were gone.

On the previous trip, some things had been missing. This time I couldn't find any trace that I'd ever been there.

I should have turned around then. I had the camera running and I remember saying that out loud, almost casually. Then I put it away to save the battery and carried on.

Crossing the large room took longer than I expected. Much longer. When I reached the wall, I followed it to the right, but the opening wasn't where I remembered it. I found one eventually and went in.

After that, I couldn't make the passages agree with the notebook.

I kept stopping at corners and checking the pages. There should have been a turn where the passage continued straight. Somewhere else I reached a junction too soon. I tried allowing for mistakes in my notes, for having walked more slowly before, for anything that would let me keep going.

Eventually I gave up and turned back.

I couldn't find the large room.

I retraced the last few turns, or what I thought were the last few turns, and ended up somewhere I didn't recognize. Spent hours trying again. I was using up the food I'd brought while looking for supplies that weren't there anymore.

It felt as though the place was changing around me. I never saw a wall move. I'd walk away from somewhere, try to return to it and fail.

Sometimes I stood still and listened, waiting for something to happen. The only sound was my breathing.

I stopped filming after a while. The camera battery was nearly dead, and holding it made it harder to move. I'd brought the thing all that way to film another year, and mostly I had footage of floors and corners while I argued with myself about which way to go.

I slept wherever I stopped. Ate a little when I woke. Kept checking the water even though I knew how much was left.

By then I was frightened enough that I kept changing my mind halfway down a passage. I'd decide I was going the wrong way and turn around, then doubt that decision too. I wasn't keeping track of anything.

Eventually I sat down and made myself stay there until I could write properly.

I started a fresh page. Drew the junction beside me. Picked one passage and wrote down each turn as I took it. When I went back, I checked them off. It was slow, and I had to start again more than once, but at least I could account for where I'd just been.

I finally reached an open space with a staircase in it.

I didn't trust it. I went up anyway.

At the top was a long, straight corridor. I followed it until the light caught the broken edge of the opening into my basement.

I got back yesterday. Looking at the dates, I'd been gone almost a week.

I never reached the other house. I brought back the same money, most of the blank tapes and an empty bag.

What a fucking idiot. I'd been sitting upstairs reading papers and making plans as though that meant I understood the place. Then I went in depending on supplies I couldn't even be sure were still there.

I've spent today eating and sleeping. My leg is sore enough that getting to the bathroom is a job.

I'm not doing that again. If I go back, I'm carrying what I need for the return as well. More water, more food, spare lights. Nothing in the plan can depend on finding something where I left it.

The bag is still on the basement stairs. I'll unpack it tomorrow.