I couldn't help myself.
I had to.
I watched them again last night. I followed her, and I watched them through the same casement window. I will not write what I saw this time. I will not. I can remember it.
I am frightened. I felt… it seemed as though he looked up, and looked directly at me. Could he have seen me?
I have punished myself. I brought back with me a branch from the little thorn-bush outside that window. I made a vow, and as I came home I steeled myself and steeled myself and took a long deep breath and at last thrust one of the thorns into my breast.
It hurt. It was stinging, wincing pain all the way home and up here, because my clothing rubbed it and made it wiggle my flesh. But I had promised myself not to take it out until I was home.
There was a tiny bit of blood. I wiped it off with toilet paper, and when it stopped coming, I flushed the paper. Then I also flushed the thorn.
I wish I had kept it. (Terrible girl!) I am getting ready to get into bed, now, and I wish I had kept that thorn…