I wrote through the night.
Not the case file. I had done everything with the case file that I could with what I had. What I wrote that night was something else. A full account. First person, dated, signed with both names because this document needed to carry the weight of both the woman who had survived and the woman who had been buried. Every detail I could put down in the order it happened. The festival. The injection. The truck. The cliff. The camp. The pregnancy. The document with Marcus's name on it. The guard who told me Marcus was not the one I was supposed to fear. The escape. Ashveil. Eli.
All of it.
It took until the sky outside started thinking about changing color.
I read it back once. It was not a comfortable document. It did not read like something constructed for effect.
