She has been six days and nights. I think I am scared of her. I lock my door. I remember what I saw her doing, through the window in Erik's… dungeon. I now turn out the light when I go to bed, too.
I do it every night; of course. It's so-o-o-o-o relaxing!
No. I don't believe. I can't. There isn't any Hell. I really doubt, now, that there's a Heaven either, but it's nice to think so. But my parents are NOT in any Hell! And surely I could not be condemned to that sort of horror just because of what my hands do, here in my bed. After all, I am still a sugar-saccharin-cyclamate-sweet little virgy-wirgy!
(later)
I am sitting here by the window, writing this or starting to, and I know I am not going to write very much. I keep rolling my eyes at the window. I wish Erik was… were out there. I am going to go to bed in a minute and do it until I go to sleep.
I Wish Erik were out there.
If he came in this door right now, right this minute, I would get right up and smile and welcome him.
I would, wouldn't I? I could, couldn't I?
I am naked.