It’s soft, almost reflexive it its kindness. Blue skies mean no harm, they are protectors. I almost not dare to think reach back into my memories, b...cause with blue skies comes Sawyer, and… Sawyer. I promised myself that Sawyer would stay gone. He’s the reason I’m trapped in this fucking tent, staring up at a turquoise canvas that pretends to be the blue skies from my memories. He’s the reason I’m alone inside this barrier. The others don’t like that I hole up in here. I heard them. I heard. He was checking through his piles of scrap wood and metal, while blueprints were drawn in his head. He had gotten an idea for something to build while in bed the previous night, recovering from fucking his slaves into comas of sexual bliss. Once he got an idea in his head, he had to build it; it became a compulsion for him. He had plenty of materials to use, and one resource he was eyeing was a power sander, completely unusable for its proper purpose when the rubber pad that the Velcro-lined. More

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