Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story. You've read too many of these disclaimers not to know that nobody owns anything.

Rating: PG-13 for suicide

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It's been a year. A full year of sitting alone up here in the frigid cold with no one but those blank-faced slaves to keep me company as I labor to make others miserable. A full year of listening to Nemian and his equally detestable bride gloat about their City. A full year of Her praising me for making these wicked dice spin. A full year of hearing her cackle about how she'll soon be dead and this sad, gray City and it's sad, gray residents will be under my control. A full year of being called by my full name, a name that might've been pretty had it not gotten me into this chaotic mess of insanity and unhappiness. A full year of wearing these stupid armored beetle dresses. And for what?

Nothing.

Nothing but this Tower and these Books

I still have dreams about the Hulta. I remember their names and personalities, but faces are a blur.

Except his.

Isn't it ironic that the one face I would hope to forget still sticks in my head as though I have been staring at it forever?

It is driving me mad.

That is why, my friend, I have decided to jump.

I have decided to break free of the jaws of the Wolf that has held its prey captive for One Full Year.

Tonight I will send the slaves out onto the landing. I will take off one ridiculously high-heeled shoe and toss it through the glass of the Window. I shall then step through the hole I have created and into my new life, for the Wolf Tower has been my doom.

Tonight I will leave this Mad World to you, my book, my friend, my only confidante.

Goodbye.