Day 1 / 12:33
Journal’s a timetabled slot, after lunch.
Noah takes his pen out of his pocket (in-out-in-out). It’s muggy, and his hand is sweaty. He’d like to stretch out on his bed, try to doze, but then he’d have to journal later, and he can’t afford any delays.
He stares at the white wall, wipes his hands on the towel he’s put on the corner of the desk, folds it and picks up his pen (down-up-down-up).
He doesn’t know what to write.
Of course you do.
There’s stuff he can’t tell anyone, about the Dark, how it looms when he tries to explain his 5s.
Maybe that’s where he should start. The things he can’t say, instead of all the things he should.
He can’t tell anyone
1. What the Dark tells him.
2. How he has to obey it.
3. How it’s never the same.
4. How he tries to push it away.
5. About the fear that filled him on the night it arrived.
There you go, Ms Turner. 5 things about Noah that he can’t share with anyone. He caps his pen, puts it back in (out-in-out-in) his pocket. There’s still another 10 minutes to go, but that’s all for today.