fucking batshit Kari

Kari is a fucking psycho. She has this entire case of knives or something, she...

Well, she tied me up, right? She calls me the First Lady of the Runners, whatever batshit that is, says she has some questions for me that I wouldn't answer without encouragement. And then she asks me about the labyrinth.

I'm being completely honest here when I say I don't recall a single true detail about my time in that place. Everything I know, I got secondhand. I am the last authority you would go to on the subject. Hell, you'd even be better off harassing those Lexicon kids, if you could find them, that is.

Anyway, she tells me how she and her boyfriend were trapped in there. He died. Horribly. Now she's been having nightmares. And she has the fucking nerve to think I know anything about her situation.

"Tell me why I lived and he died!" she keeps screaming. I don't fucking know.

I was willing to talk calmly about it. But she persisted. She said she needed persuasion to get that information out of me, that she had me right where she wanted me. Picks up a scalpel, sticks it in the arm of the chair right next to my hand. The blade snaps off, so she grabs this carving knife and holds it under my nail.

"Don't make me push," she says.

Fucking psycho.

I say she'd be better off talking to one of the Sages about it. Wrong answer.

No, no, I still have special information locked up in my head, I know things because I have a stupid shitty title, all right, a title I wasn't even supposed to have in the first place, a title that was never supposed to exist, a title a madman made up. So she rips off my nail with the carving knife.

I'm not trying to hide anything. If anyone wants to know anything, anything at all, they don't have to fucking tie me up and torture me, all right? Just send me an email or something. I'd love to help you. Trust me, if I say I don't know why the fuck you're still alive and someone else is gone, I fucking don't!

She gives me another minute to think it over. So here's what I say. Labyrinths are basically mutated loops. I don't know why or how the GE- You know who I'm talking about - uses them, okay? I was never granted access into... I don't know, HIS motives or desires.

So I say the stupidest thing, I say her boyfriend could still be in the labyrinth - look, I haven't read her blog, I haven't exactly had time. But obviously, like I said, her boyfriend's dead, he was killed just as she returned, and maybe even because she returned, and she blames herself. Kari, I know what you've been through, it doesn't have to be like this at all, you have to move on, okay? People die all the time and you can't pretend like you can stop it or knowing the answers is gonna help.

She wants to know what makes me special. Why HE didn't just kill me.

"Maybe I'm fun to break." I laugh.

Crazy psycho fucking bitch nut stabs my hand, over and over, screaming at me. My hand is still fucking bleeding from that, you nasty whore. I cannot fucking move the fingers on my left hand. You know how much of a pain this was to type? I just wanted to talk about this. I just wanted to fucking talk like normal sane rational people and you have to make it into this... huge production with knives and screaming and all these demands and questions I don't know the answers to, no one does!

I tell her anything to make her stop. She wasn't going to be satisfied by ignorance.

"He works contrary to your expectations," I think I said. "If you expected to die and your boyfriend expected to live, that would be a shock to you and the end of him." Or something. Something like, "It's the outcome that would have caused the most possible pain." She nods slowly. She's not stabbing me, so I take that as a good thing.

Maybe what I said made sense to her somehow. Whatever fucking sense... no one knows anything. Not a fucking thing. I go on, just rambling at this point, "Women are more likely to display their emotional pain than men because men have been raised in a society where 'boys don't cry' but women are likely to go to their friends and seek comfort. Maybe that's the spread he needs, if in fact he works like a meme," right? I don't know... I just read that somewhere a while ago and I thought... maybe it was what she was looking for.

It seemed like it was. She goes quiet for a while, then she kisses me on the cheek and unties me, wraps some bandages around my hand, and leaves the room.

Not a minute later, she yells, "He's here!" and bolts.

That could only mean one thing. I've told you guys before, I have never seen... guess it was just my lucky day. Good for me. Finally understanding this can't, couldn't have ever been anything less than the truth. No, it's not a fucking story, Nessa, you idiot, it never will be.

It was the last thing I had. The hope that somehow this was all in my head and someday I could find out if my parents are really dead. But I don't even know my last name, where would I start? I dropped out of high school. I have no future to speak of.

It's really a wonder I haven't offed myself already.

Right, everyone, stay the fuck away from Kari. I don't have a picture, but I could make a drawing for you... but now I've got to get to the hospital to make my hand stop bleeding already.