H U N T E R'S D U N G EO N . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . [ 10:00 PM ] . . . . . . . . . . D A N I E L'S P O V . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . It's been hours since we last spoke. Silence flooded our midst since she let a teardrop down her cheek. She has not spoken, and the silence is still lingering in our midst. I feel uncomfortable watching her this way. She has been so lousy, and she hasn't really shown me this part of her that makes me look at her in a different way. She has been sobbing, and even as she has stopped, she is just staring at the other wall. She is laying on the floor, and she has turned her back against me, and faced the wall. She has refused to turn towards me, avoiding me the best she can. . . I should not be thinking about it, but she lo

