February 3rd, 1984.

13

I went in the bath today. I had overheard Papa talking to the scientists about senses and salt and such things before, but I didn't understand until today. I wish I had never had to find out.

Papa kissed me, stroking my head gently before taking me into the room with the other men. Mike was there. He looked less surprised this time, just confused. I felt his eyes on me the whole time.

The bad darkness hurt my head. I just want to sleep now. Sleep is a good kind of darkness. It doesn't hurt, it doesn't have bad men or scary noises. It is just warm, wanting you to come and rest in it. I am glad to comply.