Words scratched into the paint of the walls above her sleeping mat, the implement, a spoon, laying beneath. It’s late. Or at least I think it’s late, given the fact that it’s quiet beyond my prison door. I still have little perception of time and I’m still not sure what they plan on doing with me. I’m not so sure they know either.
I missed Charm’s birthday and I have no doubt I’ll be missing Olivia’s as well, if I haven’t already.
There’s something in the dark. It seethes and twists around me like a vaporous cloud, an intangible miasma that controls my emotions.. my thoughts.
I can hear him sometimes, calling my name, whispering only horts from my ear. My imagination runs away with me, pulling me back into time while chaos echoed all around me.
Mentally stalking me. Promising to give me no rest.
I miss you.
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