There’s too much illness in the New World for Miss Liberty to function. After having led all the captives to freer soil, across and above ground, she found that the camps may not have been the worst places on earth.
There is a plague out here, and the apocalypse can’t be that high up in the clouds
The sky is falling and those shards seem to cut and infect some of my people every single day. I can’t tell them from the rest anymore. Not even my Love.
I stay inside most of the time. Alone. Whether for physical safety or psychological terror…I don’t know the difference anymore.
This is not much different from being locked up for months at a time and forced to drink water until the hunger ebbs off.
It is not so much different from being beat with the butt of a guard gun…at least that pain eventually stops with a little blood
this is intolerable.
I want to claw my way out of this home I built on the outskirts of this sick new society, but I don’t want to breathe the air.
all the things I’d once sworn to die for mean nothing anymore. The sight of sun, the freedom to marry, skirts, my choice of foods, television, ice cold water…nothing.
corruption is the one thing worse than captivity.
My Love…God rest his soul…one day I’ll figure out how to fix this, and I’ll find him
but I’m not going out there. Not without a plan. Not without a potion…a poison.
kill the virus not the people, but some may be sacrificed to save the lot…