--- Somewhere, in a Heart Lab, late at night ---
It's been hours. The fans say everything is clean. The room says otherwise. Little grains of broken mechanisms are still hiding in corners. The pad where Feris fell has a new crease. I told maintenance to leave it for now. A scar belongs to the story.
I'm writing in this old book again. The first pages are messy pencil from when I was too young to understand this world. I used to write about rain and insects and what numbers felt like on my tongue. I used to write about my first days at the Lighthouse… Tonight I am writing about a girl who should have torn in half by Eon, and did not. If this entry goes to court one day, I will deny the handwriting is mine. If it goes to the grave with me, that would be neat and tidy. Life is not tidy.
