There Is A Consensus.

Typing is a little more difficult, now, but it’s proof of what happened today – we are breaking out of here, while we still have any grasp of reality, and now that we’re a great deal more certain that Daisy Chain cannot come for us again.

All that remains is for Ivory to finish patching us up, and we may stay here for another day to recover.

That’s as long as we’re giving ourselves.

When Daisy Chain came for us, she started with Alyssa; she must have waited for me to wake, which I did at the crack of dawn, and I left the room only for a moment.

When I returned, she was about to impale her straight through the stomach.

She succeeded, and she didn’t. Alyssa is in surgery, and according to Ivory, my interference kept her from being irreparably damaged.

My eye is another matter.

I have poor vision, in my remaining eye, so I worry about my ability to even type, much less do anything of value.

I will need new glasses. Is it odd for me to be concerned about my old ones being shattered?

I keep re-reading, as I type. Checking for errors.

I must seem remarkably blasé.

Alyssa nearly died and I lost an eye.

The pain of both those things was…beyond anything I could describe. When Blair died, I thought absolutely everything had been stripped away from me, and it felt as though someone had literally shoved hooks through my flesh and muscle and pulled until it all tore off.

The events that nearly happened this morning felt like they had then whipped the bones raw, until the marrow nearly seeped out.

Watching both those things happen was a bit like seeing it all in slow motion.

I saw the optic nerve tear.

I saw the blood.

I was sure I was about to die.

I blacked out, then, but I did not faint. I am not sure how I fought Daisy Chain off of me, or how I wrestled her outside.

When I became aware of what was going on, again, I was watching an echo. I thought it was my own imaginings, of what Alyssa had described.

Windmill, pounding his sharp hooves into her face, again and again, until there was nothing left but a caved-in mass where her face once was, and twitching limbs.

I had assistance, in rending Daisy Chain’s body to pieces. We burned every piece, starting with what was left of her head.

There is a consensus; what happened, truly happened. Too many of us in the hostel agree, and the effects have not gone away.

I suppose I should just be grateful that I haven’t lost anything more.