Diary – first entry

::messy writing on a scrap piece of stale-smelling yellowed paper snagged from the Library::
::childish doodling and the word “TOXIA” written several times along the page margin::

Dear Diary,

I’m sitting on the rooftop of the Library – looking down at the Haven.
Too many people inside, it’s like sardines packed in a can, oily and smelly.

I’ve been here for almost two weeks I think. I don’t keep track anymore. I barely sleep, so the nights and days just blur together.

I think I should be missing my parents. But I don’t. They aren’t even my real parents! I’m still mad!!!

I'm not going back. I need some answers. I need to find out about ME!

::the word ME is angrily underlined, scored, and circled::