Private Journal Entry
I'm so relieved that I have weekend leave; Thursday night I was almost to the point of asking Finn if he'd camp out in the infirmary with me for my night shift. I just wish I could be sure the things I'm seeing and hearing are only my imagination.
I don't think they are.
How could I imagine the sound of a man crying at 3 a.m., very softly, like either he doesn't want to be heard or is ashamed and trying to hide it? When I go to look for him, I can never find him. It's like he's a shadow that can disappear when I get too close. Or a ghost... Then there's the stealthy sounds of somebody creeping up on me, nearly close enough to touch, every night. I feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin. Can't concentrate, can't eat, can't sleep.
I found an inn I didn't know about before, on the outskirts of town, at Smuggler's Bluff. I'm staying here through Sunday afternoon, and then I go back to base. Back to the night shift. But I won't think about that yet. I slept last night. The views are beautiful from my upstairs window, too.
I don't think they are.
How could I imagine the sound of a man crying at 3 a.m., very softly, like either he doesn't want to be heard or is ashamed and trying to hide it? When I go to look for him, I can never find him. It's like he's a shadow that can disappear when I get too close. Or a ghost... Then there's the stealthy sounds of somebody creeping up on me, nearly close enough to touch, every night. I feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin. Can't concentrate, can't eat, can't sleep.
I found an inn I didn't know about before, on the outskirts of town, at Smuggler's Bluff. I'm staying here through Sunday afternoon, and then I go back to base. Back to the night shift. But I won't think about that yet. I slept last night. The views are beautiful from my upstairs window, too.