Clio Faye's Journal

10/16/11

They moved me.

I woke up in my bedroom, but I'd fallen asleep under the table in the cafeteria. That means somebody touched me. I tried to find Gabriel to question him, but he had gone off shift by the time I'd discovered this heinous violation of my trust.

I don't. Like. Being. Touched.

They don't understand.

In therapy today, Doctor Sharpe seemed to be utterly incompetent and unable to comprehend the situation. If I cannot trust you not to touch me, then how can I trust you to lock me into my own room? This is the opposite of what is comfortable to me. I doubt if she's even bothered to read my file. Ignorant. Inattentive.

They don't understand how we work. They just guess at it. That's all psychology is. I've watched it for years. They try to "correct" us by punishing us for certain behaviors. How is punishing us for being afraid going to help? It's not.

Don't lock me in my room because there are people who walk free who will manhandle me in my sleep.

Lock away the dangers, not the victims.

They just... don't understand.

It's hopeless.