time in the world, is what he should have said to me. But he didn’t because what he meant tick tock is that our time tick tock is shifting. It’s hurtling forward heading in an entirely new direction slamming face-first into something else and
tick
tick
tick
tick
tick
it’s almost
time for war.
Log: Day 1
She is currently sleeping in my bed.
I finally provided her with the perfect opportunity to display her abilities and she fainted . The tiny, frail thing—I must make sure she eats more—just collapsed in my arms. I’ve seen my fair share of horrified persons in my nineteen years—emotions competing on the faces of my dying enemies, my own men, even myself. But the kind of terror and paralyzing fear on her face was so unexpected as to be remarkable. Jenkins, yes, I expected him to be perhaps mildly concerned for his own welfare. But this girl. The insanity I’ve been told about was all over her face only in that moment.
She perplexes me.
Every account I’ve read of her—every record, report, every incident on file—claims that she is vicious and delusional. But she is neither. She does not seem to understand the breadth of her abilities; she can’t see the limitless potential in who she could become; she doesn’t even seem interested . She is not at all like how she was described. I thought I was enlisting a willing warrior—someone eager to unleash herself—and I was wildly mistaken. This is going to be much more difficult than I anticipated.
It should also be noted that the photos I found in her medical records are ridiculous. They are such a misrepresentation of this girl as to be laughable. She is scared and broken, yes. But she is also angry—and stunningly beautiful. I’m certain I’ve never seen such a beautiful creature in my life. This comes as a great surprise, actually, as I was prepared to be at least mildly repulsed by her. Unfortunately, not only did her beauty immediately distract me—such odd blue-green eyes—but I noticed a sweetness in her features that I’m afraid might actually be sincere. I’m not sure yet if it’s just a clever facade designed to fool her enemies (I doubt it), but I can’t take any chances with her safety.
I’ve decided that she cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to communicate with my men. They’ve been isolated for too long; a generous smile from a beautiful girl would ruin the best of them. And this is precisely why I decided her incident with Jenkins had to be public. I needed to make sure the men knew exactly what she was capable of; they cannot be allowed to think of her as a meek and vulnerable girl—I do not want her to be harassed while she’s here. I’m confident that it will be much safer for her if she is feared, if they think she is a wild, uncontrollable monster. It’s better for her that way. I don’t think she’d listen if I were to simply instruct her to be unkind to the soldiers.
A belated ( see below * )
She is a very stubborn creature.
She fights me over dresses and shoes and refuses to eat her food, like some kind of petulant child. She falls apart at the sight of lavish decor and doesn’t seem pleased to have an actual bed to sleep in. It’s absurd. Who but a child would fight over food and outfits? What rational being refuses a warm meal and an armoire full of clothes? It’s becoming increasingly apparent to me that not only does she not know how to fight but she doesn’t even know how to fight for the right things. Food and clothing are staples, necessary items; it didn’t once occur to me that she would be unhappy to eat solid meals or be unwilling to change out of the same ragged outfit she’s worn for almost a year.
This is not the mind of a vicious human being.
This is the mind of a broken girl who thinks she is showing strength by refusing the very basic components of survival: Food to give her energy. Clothes to protect her body. Sleep to revive
tick
tick
tick
tick
tick
it’s almost
time for war.
Log: Day 1
She is currently sleeping in my bed.
I finally provided her with the perfect opportunity to display her abilities and she fainted . The tiny, frail thing—I must make sure she eats more—just collapsed in my arms. I’ve seen my fair share of horrified persons in my nineteen years—emotions competing on the faces of my dying enemies, my own men, even myself. But the kind of terror and paralyzing fear on her face was so unexpected as to be remarkable. Jenkins, yes, I expected him to be perhaps mildly concerned for his own welfare. But this girl. The insanity I’ve been told about was all over her face only in that moment.
She perplexes me.
Every account I’ve read of her—every record, report, every incident on file—claims that she is vicious and delusional. But she is neither. She does not seem to understand the breadth of her abilities; she can’t see the limitless potential in who she could become; she doesn’t even seem interested . She is not at all like how she was described. I thought I was enlisting a willing warrior—someone eager to unleash herself—and I was wildly mistaken. This is going to be much more difficult than I anticipated.
It should also be noted that the photos I found in her medical records are ridiculous. They are such a misrepresentation of this girl as to be laughable. She is scared and broken, yes. But she is also angry—and stunningly beautiful. I’m certain I’ve never seen such a beautiful creature in my life. This comes as a great surprise, actually, as I was prepared to be at least mildly repulsed by her. Unfortunately, not only did her beauty immediately distract me—such odd blue-green eyes—but I noticed a sweetness in her features that I’m afraid might actually be sincere. I’m not sure yet if it’s just a clever facade designed to fool her enemies (I doubt it), but I can’t take any chances with her safety.
I’ve decided that she cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to communicate with my men. They’ve been isolated for too long; a generous smile from a beautiful girl would ruin the best of them. And this is precisely why I decided her incident with Jenkins had to be public. I needed to make sure the men knew exactly what she was capable of; they cannot be allowed to think of her as a meek and vulnerable girl—I do not want her to be harassed while she’s here. I’m confident that it will be much safer for her if she is feared, if they think she is a wild, uncontrollable monster. It’s better for her that way. I don’t think she’d listen if I were to simply instruct her to be unkind to the soldiers.
A belated ( see below * )
She is a very stubborn creature.
She fights me over dresses and shoes and refuses to eat her food, like some kind of petulant child. She falls apart at the sight of lavish decor and doesn’t seem pleased to have an actual bed to sleep in. It’s absurd. Who but a child would fight over food and outfits? What rational being refuses a warm meal and an armoire full of clothes? It’s becoming increasingly apparent to me that not only does she not know how to fight but she doesn’t even know how to fight for the right things. Food and clothing are staples, necessary items; it didn’t once occur to me that she would be unhappy to eat solid meals or be unwilling to change out of the same ragged outfit she’s worn for almost a year.
This is not the mind of a vicious human being.
This is the mind of a broken girl who thinks she is showing strength by refusing the very basic components of survival: Food to give her energy. Clothes to protect her body. Sleep to revive
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