It feels like some kind of fever dream, even now. It's been days since we got out, but my head keeps going back to it, playing scenes over in my mind. Smokes cigarette I sit here in this dingy apartment in Berlin, staring at the walls, trying to ward off the feeling of unreality. That place. it was wrong. Not just odd, twisted. Non-Euclidean, they said. Never was much into the technicals, just knew things didn't add up in there. Not the rooms, nor the people, not time itself.

Dimitry handled it well; that I gotta give it to him. We talked about getting a drink, but neither of us has called or messaged. Guess we're still processing what happened. I just can't get Doe out of my head. I can still see it, her face when that swarm got her, her screaming. It's just one of those sounds that stays with you. You think you're ready for anything; then something like this happens, and you realize how helpless you really are.

Spent the first day back with my gun on the table, disassembled. Cleaned it over and over 'til my fingers were raw, but it wasn't about the gun. It was about control, finding something solid after that twisted hell we were stuck in. I lost it in there for a while, kept thinking about that painting of my parents. That damn moment keeps on coming back when I least expect it.

 Matthew's been quiet. I think that statue messed with his head more than he's letting on. Whatever it whispered to him, it wasn't good. Not for a guy like him. I have seen what happens when people allow stuff like that to get inside their heads. To be honest I really don't trust the guy though, half the time he seemed disinterested in helping us.

Cera called to check in. I told her I was fine because that's what one says when asked, right? But I think she heard it in my voice strain. She's young, full of energy. Reminds me of how I used to be before all this. Maybe she still has a shot at getting out of this mess before it eats her alive.

Went to the bar tonight. The bartender's a good guy who knows when not to ask questions. But I couldn't even make it past the front door. Just stood there staring at the neon sign flickering in the rain. What was I even gonna say? That I saw things no one should ever see, and I felt a fear deeper than anything I've felt since the day I lost my parents? Nah. That's not how I work. I keep it inside, let it simmer.

Tomorrow, I get back to work. This downtime is suffocating. I need a job, something to focus on, to drown out the noise. The monsters, the magic, the chaos. it never really goes away.

But I keep moving. What else can I do?

Exhales smoke.