Dear Hector,
I Am Machine. You know that song? By Three Days Grace? It's pretty good, I mean it's a little dark for my taste but lately it seems my whole world has started to get darker and darker with every passing day. Hour even. Dare I go as far as to say minute? I can't even tell anymore, and you know what? I think that scares me the most.
I used to be such an optimist, not to say I have no more optimism left, but I'm definitely not the girl you knew anymore. I don't even know if you're getting these letters. They could be getting sent to a totally wrong address, but I still send them. I think these letters are the embodiment of what's left of my optimism. There's always the chance you're receiving them right?
Anyway, since my last letter not much has happened. That's the scary part. The Twelve have come and gone now and the only thing they achieved was destruction. We wanted nothing more than to do good, well, some of us. But now that it's all over and the smoke has cleared it doesn't feel like it's actually over. It's like the universe herself is holding her breath. Like the calm before the storm, you know?
I can't help but have this feeling that we've only just tasted the horrors of this fate that's been picked out for us. My whole being is anticipating something and I know whatever it is will be a travesty. The wait is killing me.
Yours truly,
Lydia Black.
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