Update

Jun 15, 2004 02:37

I'm writing this from a cybercafe in one of the casinos. Just to tell people I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I have a job as a cocktail waitress in a big hotel on the Strip and I have an apartment and everything.

Although. . . I forget her name but she had those golden eyes, you know, without irises or pupils or anything. She tracked me down. Took all that time. She had a point.

She did. She found me. Obviously others can too, but they're choosing not to. That's ok. They don't have to do anything. I can take care of myself. If I were them I wouldn't want me around either. I mean, I just cause trouble and they were getting paid to have me around at Xavier's anyway. I guess I can understand that some people aren't willing to brush murder under the rug with cash. That woman. . . she offered me a place. Not that I'd ever take it. But she seemed to think that I was a good candidate for whatever they do over there in the brotherhood. Hah. Some brotherhood. I don't want to be around people where I'd be afraid to fall asleep for fear of my life.

I'm fine. I don't need anybody else. I can take care of myself from now on. Don't worry about me.

Sophie
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