Who: Dietre and Carr.
When: Friday morning.
Where: D's cell at first.
What: Carr comes to give a little advice.




These past few weeks had been trying, and it seemed so much of the pain he was going through was all his fault. If he had been able to control himself at the beach that day he wouldn't be so miserable now. And oh, was he miserable. Guilt ate away his insides and mind like some parasitic monster, he was sick with it. He loathed himself, and he was sure everyone else did too. He had avoided all social contact since the incident, too ashamed to show his face.

He had done more than just embarrass himself in front of his friends (who his paranoid mind was certain were no longer friends), he had hurt Violet's feelings. The fact that she hadn't come to see him since depressed him so that he had slipped back, reverting to how he was when he first arrived on the island. He hadn't slept, couldn't sleep, the dark circles around his eyes that had faded to almost nothing came back, insomnia leaving his gaze hollow and haunted once more. What weight he had gained began to waste away, his appetite dead.

Adding to his mental stresses, his body had also gotten its share of abuse. He suffered through two rounds of the tournament, losing terribly in the second. He still ached, week old injuries throbbed, but they were ignorable. Besides, he felt he deserved as much discomfort as possible for hurting his friend.

He tried to read to pass the time, but he couldn't focus on the plots. He settled on a book of poetry. Most of the poems were short enough that his sleep deprived mind could handle them.

Am I kin to Sorrow,
That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door——
Neither loud nor soft,
But as long accustomed,
Under Sorrow's hand?
Marigolds around the step
And rosemary stand,
And then comes Sorrow—
And what does Sorrow care
For the rosemary
Or the marigolds there?
Am I kin to Sorrow?
Are we kin?
That so oft upon my door—
Oh, come in!