The sudden light was so bright in the dark, at first it was blinding. I closed my eyes and saw a mass of bright white spots on the inside of my eyelids. Slowly, I opened them again peered about the well. The walls were charcoal grey and slimy-looking. Rainwater ran down them in glistening rivulets. Once my eyes had grown accustomed to the light, I span around in the confined enclosure to make sure that I was truly alone. There was no one in the well with me. This fact didn't stop my heart from racing. To be at the bottom of the well was like reliving my nightmare again. It was the exact same well. The smell, the damp, the Plink! Plink! Plink! sound of dripping water.

"Water!" I gasped.

I looked down to see that I was standing in a foot of it. Just like in my nightmare, it was black, like a deep pool of ink. I flashed the light of my torch over it, in search of the bottle.

"Where is it?" I groaned, unable to see it, fearing that I had put myself at risk for nothing.

The torchlight made sparkling patterns over the water as I splashed about, the feeling that the walls were closing in on me again. I saw something winking back at me from just a few feet away in the water. I waded forwards, plucking the bottle from the water like I was grabbing some kind of prize. I held the old Coke bottle up in the torchlight. The red and white logo had almost come totally away, and what was left had faded to a pale pinkie colour through age. I shone the light on the bottle, and there, sealed inside, was a folded piece of a paper. Holding the end of the torch between my front teeth, and with a pair of trembling hands, I unscrewed the cap. I placed the empty bottle in my coat pocket, then unfolded the piece of paper. It had turned yellow in places and the corners had curled up. With my free hand, I took the torch from between my front teeth, and held it over the sheet of paper.

At once my heart almost stopped, and I drew a deep, agonising breath as I read what was written in a spidery scrawl across it. To read that note was like being repeatedly punched in the stomach. I felt winded, as if unable to fill my lungs with air. I reached for the wall of the well to support me as my legs gave way beneath. I dropped into the water, as it splashed darkly about me.

"No," I cried out. "No!"

I didn't want to believe what was written on the note I had discovered. But in my heart I knew that it was true. It was the only thing that made any sense.

"No!" I screamed, rocking my head back against the wall. "No!"

Hot acid shot up into my throat, and I gaged. I felt sick. A part of me wanted to turn off the torch and sit in the black at the bottom of the well and never climb out again.

"How could you do this to me!" I screamed, kicking at the water with my feet and banging my fists against the wall. I screwed the letter up in my fist as I pounded the wall over and over again. From the corner of my tear-filled eyes, I saw the letter getting ever more creased. Slowly, I stopped. I couldn't destroy it. I couldn't destroy the letter if I was going to ever have justice for those people who had died in the well.

Shaking from head to foot, I dragged myself out of the water and lent against the slick grey wall of the well. I looked one last time at the note which had been signed: This is the dying declaration of Police Constable Lee 5013.

I yanked on the rope to give the sign to Vincent that I was ready to be pulled up. I put the note back into the bottle and tucked it into my coat pocket. I switched off the torch, then gripped the rope as Vincent began to pull me up out of the well. With my head resting against the rope, I wondered how I would even begin to explain to Vincent what I had discovered. Slowly, I reached the top, feeling cold, wet, and in shock. I gripped the edge of the well to hoist myself out. I felt a cold pair of hands take hold of mine. I looked up expecting to see Vincent, but instead I was looking into my father's face. He pulled me over the lip of the well, and I staggered away, my legs still feeling like two sticks of rubber.

"What are you doing here?" I gasped, glancing through the driving rain in search of Vincent. I couldn't see him anywhere.

"What am I doing here?" my father barked at me. "I should be arresting you for the continual harassment of Farmer Grayson, and for repeatedly trespassing on his land. He called the three 9s claiming that thieves were on his property. I was on patrol close by. The last person I thought I would find is you!"

I knocked the strands of wet hair away, which were plastered across my face, and stared at my father.

"What is wrong with you, Sydney?" he shouted, coming towards me through the rain.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed back at him. "Don't you dare come near me  -  murderer!"