They were lost. They left on their own but failed to find an egress. Wandering the massive complex aimlessly and without direction. Each hallway just led to more hallways. It was infuriating. After 15 minutes of bickering...

"I hired you as a guide!"

"I can't guide you in places I've never been!"

...Daire finally ordered Emmy to ask someone for directions. She disliked being ordered around but looked around for someone wearing a uniform anyway.

That left Daire and Violet alone. It was awkward. He was waiting for this moment but didn't have the courage to bring the subject up. He didn't have any useable segues in his back pocket. Everything either seemed cheesy or inadequate.

"So..."

"I hate you."

"Ow. You hate me? Really?"

Violet had her arms crossed.

"I had to watch you be all flirty for over an hour."

"I was charmed. With magic. You helped me get un-charmed."

"I punched you."

"I asked for it.

"You wanted to jump her."

"No. Well.. No! It was magic. She isn't my type. UGH! This isn't how I wanted this to go."

"By all means, tell me how you wanted this to go. You say 'sorry' and *poof*, things are okay?"

"I am sorry."

"..."

"Really sorry. I can't express it. But... *sigh* I... Here. I want you to hold onto this."

Violet was about to retort, but she held back on seeing the presented object. It was familiar. It was a notebook—Daire's Diary.

She looked between the Diary and Daire. Questioning.

"Am I supposed to trust you because you're giving me this?"

"No."

Daire stated flatly. He took a moment to gather his breath. Seeing this, Violet listened.

"I am selfish. I am a selfish person, and I will only ever do what is best for me. I save people because it is best for me. I need them. I need you. When I think about it, it sounds so fucked up that it is hard to live with myself, but it is the truth. I am selfish and always will be. You can trust that if nothing else. I will look out for you because it makes me happy. I will protect you because seeing your smile makes me smile. I can be a dense fuck at the worst of times, so I need you to call me out like you did earlier. And wallop me if words fail to penetrate my thick head."

"And where does that leave us?"

"As friends? I hope. Agh, this is so hard. Tell me if I am overreaching. I don't want to come off as a prick."

Violet remained silent as she stared at the book.

"Why?"

"The book? That's different. It isn't safe with me. Giving it to you might keep it safe. Or you can burn it. Or read it if you must. I hope you don't, but it is yours to do with what you will. Because I trust you."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Liar.

He trusted her? How is that being selfish? He's contradicting himself endlessly.

Seeing him fidget with his hand outstretched, she finally took it, using a bit of wind magic to carry it down to the ground.

"I uh... I'm just going to go around this corner. You can... Do whatever."

Violet observed him awkwardly rounding the corner. Out of sight, she opened the book shamelessly.

Dear Diary, I don't know why I'm writing one of these again. It didn't work the first four times, but who knows, maybe this time it will help make me a better person. At night I am plagued with ill thoughts and frightening notions. There are times when I don't recognize myself in the mirror. Like there is someone else wearing my skin. But no... I know. This evil, twisted, and ugly version of me is still me. I hide him behind good deeds in hope that he may never be recognized, like how I assume most people do.

But I see it. I see it in their faces. They can see him. They see me! And that terrifies me. I've cut the bridges myself. I'm the one that built these walls. I'm the one who blocked myself in, terrified of the world. It was me!

It was me...

...ha.

You know... Am I talking to myself here? Does this officially qualify me as insane? well I can't help it. I can't help it. I can't. I don't. I don't know how. How can I look them in the eyes? When they see a glimpse of me. Of the disgusting person I am.

I am no murderer. No criminal. I've done no ill deeds to warrant a witch trial. Too scared of retribution and authority. But I know what I am capable of. I've seen hints of him. Of me. Of us. Its the person I never want to be and the one I want to let roam free. Is it a social constriction? Of morals? I feel it as a primal sense of what is acceptable and what is not.

If you knew... If someone knew... If someone read this. Stop reading. No don't read this, I am frightened. Could I trust someone with a piece of me? The whole me? The ugly me?

If I ever do...

I wonder what that person means to me.

Violet closed the book.

The first page? No, she hadn't even gotten halfway down. It was littered with self-doubt and recrimination. A little boy. A child afraid of being scolded because he'd gotten away with having bad thoughts. There was no reason for him to be afraid. Thoughts are thoughts. Everyone thinks and therefore has thoughts.

But Violet had read enough for now.

There wasn't time.

The amount of energy that went into reading just that small section had drained her. It felt... different. Different from the admissions of her book characters. There was no refined quality. There were spelling mistakes and grammar errors and repeating phrases and sentences that just don't make sense. It was unfiltered thought, and that was what made it feel so much more personal.

Violet caught Daire peeking around the corner. The way he turned away, the way his eyes darted, and the stiffness in his shoulders... like he was waiting to be called names. The man who was half-hiding was nothing like the hero she saw fight a bear. Nothing like the silly man who told jokes and stories. Or the mischievous man who had been playing pranks on her. It wasn't quite the same man who admired her by sneaking glances from time to time.

Her tiny chest bumped with each heartbeat, and her stomach had that overeaten feel to it.

Daire was a complex person. He kept showing new sides. Some good. Some not so good. But Violet realized one thing as the book in front of her crackled with electricity, the pages fluttering faster than they could be read.

There is more to discover.

The inaudible crackling of violet lightning enveloped the Diary of Daire. Each page glowed, the cursive lettering appearing like magical runic script. Just before the back cover clapped closed, Violet caught a glimpse of a drawn image. It went by too fast to catch. And as the shrunken diary dropped into her waiting hand, she withheld the urge to reopen it. Something told her to wait.

Tucking the miniature diary into the front left pocket of her forest green pants, she patted it safely—no more danger.

"I can sense you staring at me, you know?"

"Did you read it?"

Violet shook her head.

"Barely. You don't have to worry so much."

"Where did it go? Did you actually burn it?"

Violet rubbed her hands over both front pockets. No bludge was present or visible—a trick of the eyes.

For a long moment, she considered how to answer. Should she lie and tell him that it was gone for good? She kept it because she was sure she would want to read more, but did he need to know that?

Confirming it with herself, she spoke her answer.