Year 842, 12 November
Today was my eighteenth birthday. I celebrated the unmomentous on my own for the third year in a row. Rose would laugh at me if she saw me now. I always talked bad about those silly Survey Corps Scouts, how they were all adrenaline junkies with a death wish. She would be in hysterics if she saw where I was, and who I was staying with.
This is only temporary. I'll find a way out of here.
The commanding officer here is nosy. His name is Perry and he's an older stockier man. He's always trying to ask about me and my life Underground. He wants to know exactly what I did to end up here. Then, when I don't answer him, he always says maybe it's a good thing a young girl like me got "the hell away from there". I believe him. Afterwards he'll offer me a cigarette.
Last night I had the thought that maybe I could do it. If I tried hard enough I could snag some rope from the supply cabin just a few cabins down. It's not that hard to tie a noose. I did it for that old pedophile who lived across the street underground, I thought I could do it for myself.
But then, I thought about Rose. Is that what she would want? I promised her a better life, I promised her that she and I would make it out together. We'd get to the family we have left just beyond the outer wall. We would find a way. Now that she's not with me, do I try to go for myself?
Maybe not for myself, but for mom and for Rose. Maybe even for dad as well.
I don't believe what the military police say. They just didn't want to have to deal with another case of murder because they're all lazy pigs. Even the man who always sat around in the tavern said it wasn't suicide. He came around that day, his hat still on his head like every other day and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Normally he had a teenager hanging around him but he didn't seem to be there that day.
I still think about what he said about the stab wounds. After asking what hand my father used to write with he had stayed quiet for bit, but hummed. The gash would have been more towards the left side of my father's chest if he had done it himself. When I asked how he knew that he chuckled and threw me a half empty pack cigarettes. I think that's the last time someone gave me anything, really.
When I get past those walls, I'll sit down and figure it out. When I get away from this fake safe haven I'll prove it wasn't suicide. My father may have been an asshole in his last days, but he never would have just left me and Rose like that. He couldn't have.