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It’s complete chaos

My heart constricts at this realization, at this proof of what she ht’ve suffered in all that ti it for ht

And now, even as I try to read in chronological order, I find I’m unable to keep up with the ; the syste only she’d be able to decipher I can only flip through the book and seek out the bits that are most coherently written

My eyes freeze on a particular passage

It’s a strange thing, to never know peace To know that no o, there is no sanctuary That the threat of pain is always a whisper away I’ my house, and I couldn’t even feel safe in the 14 years I lived at home The asyluht to fear me, and my home is the saht andthe abomination she was forced to raise

She always said it wasaboutabout my eyes, the way I looked at her, the fact that I even existed She’d always tell ht attack her Stop looking atat me, she’d scream

She put my hand in the fire once

Just to see if it would burn, she said Just to check if it was a regular hand, she said

I was 6 years old then

I remember because it was my birthday

I knock the notebook to the floor

I’ to steady ht at the roots These words are too close to me, too familiar The story of a child abused by its parents Locked away and discarded It’s too close tolike this before I’ve never read anything that could speak directly to my bones And I know I shouldn’t I know, so, that it won’t give one I already know that reading this will only makefor her journal once ain

Am I insane yet?

Has it happened yet?

Hoill I ever know?

My intercom screeches so suddenly that I trip over my own chair and have to catch ; un to burn, and s are suddenly too weak to stand on I have to focus all e

"What?" I demand

"Sir, I only wondered, if you were still--well, the asse, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you--"

"Oh for the love of God, Delalieu" I try to shake off the tre I’m on my way"

"Yes, sir," he says "Thank you, sir"

I disconnect the line

And then I grab the notebook, tuck it in my pocket, and head out the door

Eleven

I’e of the courtyard above the Quadrant, looking out at the thousands of faces staring back at le-file line in their assembly uniforuns

Left fists pressed against their hearts

I make an effort to focus on--and care about--the task at hand; but somehow I can’t help but be hyperaware of the notebook tucked away inand torturing me with its secrets

I aled in words that are not my own I have to take a sharp breath to clear my head; I clench and unclenchdirectly into the square oftheir left hands and instead placing their right fists on their chests

"We have a nus to discuss today," I tell theesture to my arm Study their carefully crafted ehts are so obvious

They think of ed child They do not respect me; they are not loyal to ry; disgusted, even, that I am not dead of this wound

But they do fear me

And that is all I require

"I was injured," I say, "while in pursuit of two of our defecting soldiers Private Adam Kent and Private Kenji Kishimoto collaborated their escape in an effort to abduct Juliette Ferrars, our newest transfer and critical asset to Sector 45 They have been charged with the criainst her will But, and htly convicted of treason against The Reestablishht"

Terror, I realize, is one of the easiest feelings to read Even on a soldier’s stoic face

"Second," I say, more slowly this ti Sector 45, its citizens, and the ensuing chaos resulting from these recent disruptions, the supreme commander of The Reestablishment has joined us on base He arrived," I tell theo"

Sootten themselves Their eyes are wide