Smoke And Fire.

Dear Diary,

The smell of burning flesh still lingers on my clothing, even though it's been a good few hours since I.. since I did what I did. The same cave, the same gut feeling in my stomach. Only this time, the captor has only one hostage. And I don't know if that makes the situation better or worse. I've lost track of how long I've been here. Days, hours, weeks, it could be anything. Fading in and out of consciousness kind of ruins a persons sense of time and perspective.
I have never met a person as unpredictable - or as psychotic - as Cassadee Clayton. However many hours I spend trying to figure out her motives behind all this, I end up with a blank. She claims to have killed.. her.. out of spite, due to the fact that Diane Lascivious left her with Delano at a young age. But of that were true, what would she need from me? For now, I'm settling on the conclusion that she's simply a deranged bitch who likes inflicting pain on others. Because I honestly can't come up with any other suggestion.

Apart from the word, "Chloe."

- Will