(Written in Morish, the language of The Exposed. Translated into English by Wren)

It’s been a week since I let her go, and since she left this empty notebook in my room. I’m not sure what purpose writing down one’s feelings and day-to-day actions serves. But that little mole did it constantly. I am now giving it a shot, in an effort to finally give myself a moment of relief from her. This past week, I’ve been plagued by her very existence. I’m consumed with the thought of her. Even in sleep, my dreams betray me and play pictures of her. I see her every time I close my eyes. I see that slender body that should have died a long time ago in this world; I see the face of a girl I should have killed the second I got the chance. 

Writing this feels like the opposite of a break from her; it’s more like I’ve given in to the urge to cling to the last shred of her she left behind. But I’m at a loss. I don’t know what else to do. I’ve prayed to the goddess for hours, but she has proved unhelpful in this situation. Every day, I grow angrier. Angrier at myself for not slitting her throat the second she ran into me, letting her out of the chains, letting her bandage me, letting her bathe me, but most of all…for letting her go. 

I’ve contemplated for hours on why I took her in the first place. I’ve never been one to want a pet. I still don’t. To call her a pet would be laughable. She’s much noisier and more annoying than a pet outa be. The only answer I’ve come up with for myself is that she intrigued me. She was a creature that was so obviously scared of me, trembling under my grasp between that wall, yet her eyes were full of nothing but her will to live. She was about to die while glaring at me with so much life that I was envious. I’ve never felt that strong of an attachment to my life. I was born in this forest, raised among the Morians who knew The Fall would come, and embraced by the wilderness when it did. Our goddess Moriai has answered any questions I’ve needed throughout my life and left me feeling satisfied with my place. I was born in this forest, and I will die in this forest when my time comes. That is what it means to be of my people. 

Why I kept her is another story. That life I wanted to investigate was in full view anytime I came back to my room, yet I stayed away as much as I could manage. I quickly realized I didn’t view her as a pet and felt guilty about chaining her up. I rationalized it by telling myself she wouldn’t survive by herself out in our territory. If I let her go, some other Morian would kill her. That would have made my act of sparing her useless, and I don’t like inefficient things. I kept her as a kind of trophy that I could gaze upon when my conscience allowed it. At first, anyway….

Soon enough, I found myself evading sleep to stare at her in the wee hours. I engraved her features, which I could see in the dark room, into my memory. I wish I hadn’t; maybe then the curve of her nose wouldn’t haunt me. 

The only reason I got hurt was sleep deprivation. My reaction time was slowed, and I failed to dodge a mutant that should never have been an issue in the first place. During the long hours of the night, I had delved into reading through the pages of Wren's little book. My English is subpar at best, and while most of it looked like jargon to me, I picked up a few instances of her proficiency with medicines. Regardless, it was stupid to go to her; even if our infirmary isn’t the best, it is surely better than what she mustered up. Still, I can’t bring myself to regret it. 

Why I let her go…I still haven’t fully figured it out. Perhaps my guilt caught up with me. The feeling of her hands working through my hair was so entirely shocking. I’m not sure anyone has ever washed my hair so carefully. She didn’t just take the dirt out of my matted hair; she massaged her fingers deep into my scalp and deep into my memory. If she had wanted to kill me in that moment, maybe I’d have let her. If I got to see that look of life brimming from her eyes while she did it, I’d accept the ending Moriai chose for me. But I knew she wouldn’t. She’s smart enough to realize me being dead was of no use to her. But more importantly, I don’t think she has it in her. 

If I’m being honest, I do know why I let her go. I let her go because she scared me. When she commanded that she be let go, I was filled with so much anger that I didn’t know how to handle it. Blind rage consumed me, and when I came back to my senses, she was crumpled on the floor before me. Even then, she still reached out for me, called out my name as if I, who had just injured her, would be her savior. 

I realized something very important as I lifted her injured body into my arms. This girl was the most dangerous thing I had ever encountered. If I kept her, I’d kill her and most likely myself in the process. So I scooped her up, gathered her things, and laid her very gently to rest in the spice house. As a farewell gift to give her a chance of surviving beyond a few days, I laid my favorite knife deep into her bag. I wanted her to have that one because I found her similar to it in a way. They were both things I was infatuated with for better or worse, both things I felt I needed, both things I want back. 

In the past week, I’ve healed enough to start hunting again. It’s my job to supply a decent portion of the food in our colony. There are lots of hunters, but I am one of the best. There’s a small part of me that anticipates stumbling over her corpse. At least then I’d get my knife back.