Day 2:
I still hate writing in diaries and I hate Gotham and I want to go home. That was the longest, most sleepless night I've ever spent. I feel like I've been run over by a truck, and I still can't help looking over my shoulder so often I'm practically a human whirlwind. I don't want to be here. It is not safe. This is not therapeutic. I just want to go home to my husband and my parents and agonize over the first draft of my term paper and pretend there's no such place as Gotham and no such person as you-know-who.
On the other hand, I made it through the night. That's got to be something, right?
Maybe…maybe I can actually go outside. I wouldn't have to go far. There are shops right across the street from the hotel. I could get Dr. Wyndham a present and really prove myself, right? And I'll get something for Peter. He's always wanted to see Gotham. Maybe I'll even get something for Lucy/Ricky.
Oh, wow. I never realized before that I was naming the baby after the Ricardos. Maybe I do need to get out more.
That's it. I'm going outside.
Soon.