Dear Diary,
I think my body is finally getting back into the swing of things. It still hates me right now—don't get me wrong—but every training session it gets a little… well, not easier, exactly, but it's like my muscles are remembering the moves and do them with a lot less trouble. I'm still sore most of the time, and tired—God, I could sleep for a week—but in the end I know the end results will be so worth any discomfort I have right now.
My Russian Jailer might be a slave driver, but he's also gonna be one hell of a mentor. I know he'll teach me everything I need to learn in order to keep Lissa safe, and that, dear diary, is the important thing.
It's weird, but I get the feeling he's still expecting me to grab Liss and make a break for freedom. He's shadowing me—trailing me around, showing up in my classes. I'll just be sitting there, minding my own business and trying to follow whatever boring shit my instructors are spouting out, then all of a sudden, I just get the… sense... feeling...whatever—I just somehow know he's in the room. And sure enough, I'm right, every damn time.
Even weirder is the fact that my training sessions have become the highlight of my day—I can't wait to get to them, even though I know it means working my ass off. For some reason I can't wait to see Comrade, and just… be near him. Okay, I DID NOT just write that. What the hell is wrong with me tonight? I must be more exhausted than I thought.
More later, I need a shower.
Rose