Day 24. Situation is growing worse. My captors continue to find new and horrific ways to torture me. When not working, Agent Scarlet spends her days examining fabric swatches for bridesmaid dresses and going on about how in love she is. This usually causes Agent Boring Borscht to regale us with stories of Russian weddings that are even more boring than his usual ones. My attempts at escape have been thwarted thus far. Also, I am out of cigarettes. Any assistance or tobacco products you can send will be greatly appreciated. -Prisoner 24601

Sydney! Stop. Think of something else. Conjugate Latin verbs. Recite the periodic table.

The only thing true about what you just said was the storybook damsel part - and that only because you're pretty enough to be one.

Look who's calling the cauldron black." "Kettle. It’s a kettle. Get your metaphors right." "That wasn’t a metaphor. It was a, you know..." He stared off into space, blinking. "One of those things that’s symbolic of another thing. But isn’t the same thing. Just like it." "You mean a metaphor?" "No! It’s like a story...like...a proverb! That’s it." "I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a proverb. Maybe it was an analogy." "I don’t think so.

Sydney spent a lot of time on my bed these days. Unfortunately, it wasn't with me.

Carter leaned toward me and brushed the hair away from the side of my face. "Don't look down then," he whispered.

We were going to kill ourselves in trying to kill each other.