Dear Diary,
I move into my new home tomorrow, and I have to admit that I'm scared. I like Dr. Roberts, or as he insists I call him, Phil, but I have a hard enough time sleeping with the boys around. I'm not sure how I'll cope alone. I still find myself straining to hear if my father is coming, wondering if it's to be punishment or worse. Every noise has me on edge and I wake up not feeling very rested.
It's all a bit much, honestly. At least the guys are all pitching in. Gabriel has completely taken over the roll of my personal decorator, and I couldn't be more grateful. I know nothing of these things. I'm just happy if I have a place to put my head.
Owen says that I should write about my nightmares. He thinks that he'll find a pattern and then be able to 'cure' them. I don't really want to live through them again, but he is usually right about things, so here it goes.
The last few nights, it's been the same dream, over and over again. I'm standing in the middle of a dark room, and it smells like old dust and mildew. I'm sticky with sweat and my clothes are nothing more than shredded fabric hanging from my shoulders and arms. A light flickers above me and I catch a glimpse of my surroundings. There are heaps of things on the floor, and I'm surrounded. Nothing except me moves and the light grows brighter. The first thing I see is always Kota's broken glasses lying askew across his lifeless face. I scream and hear Volto laugh in the distance. The room grows brighter and I see Owen's broken body draped over a dead Luke, and then I see the rest of them. North, Silas, Victor, Nathan, Gabriel, and Sean are all reduced to rotting corpses, and I see Marie and Rosie and Nicia in among them. I am surrounded by death and Volto's maniacal laughter morphs into that of my father. I scream and then wake up.
I don't need anyone to analyze what it means. I already know. I am like the Hindu goddess Kali. I bring destruction and death wherever I go.
