From: Dr. Eleanor Voss, QCSI Internal Affairs <e.voss@qcs-corp.xyz>
To: Dr. Eleanor Voss, Personal Archive <e.voss.personal@qcs-corp.xyz>
Date: Tuesday, 17 May 1988, 02:43 PM
Subject: Entry #110 - Eyes in the Shadows

Eleanor,

Eyes. Everywhere. Watching. I feel them, always, in every corner, every crevice. Not just the walls, not just the labyrinth, but... others? They watch. They see. They know.

Today, or was it yesterday? Time, such a slippery thing. I saw one. A glint, a reflection, a tiny lens staring back. Hidden, but not hidden enough. They've been watching. All along? Or just now? Does it matter?

Why? Why watch? To learn? To mock? To control? The rose, the echoes, the mirrors, all a game? My game? Their game?

Distrust. That's what bubbles up, mixing with the confusion, the fear. They see, but do they understand? Can they feel the weight of this place, its pulse, its breath? Or just cold observers, charting, noting, analyzing?

I won't be a specimen. Not for them, not for anyone. But how to hide when the very walls betray? Need a plan. Need... clarity. Elusive, but not gone. Not yet.

Eyes may watch, but I still have will. Still have fight. I see you, watchers. Do you see the real me?

In defiance and fragments,
Eleanor.