Confessions

I'm supposed to be writing a confession letter, but really it's not. The purpose of this letter is to explain to the police how I found those. . . Things. They stand over my shoulder, and they watch me, they judge me. The guards push me around, they force me to write this confession, they force me to painfully recollect my scarring encounters with those things. I really didn't mean to stumble on those things. It all started last summer.