Hello Diary It's me, Ella

My girls are mad at me. I broadcast the death of Remmick telepathically. Nobody wants to see that. But then they apologized so that I would not have to witness alone. I'm still sick. I threw up in the woods.

My girls are home. I turned myself in at the police station. The only charge they could make was playing hooky, making a false claim of being sick. But that didn't merit jail time so they let us go. We have a conference scheduled though to determine if something more serious is going on. I wish Beaker was here.

I'll try to sleep, but I don't know if I can get these awful images out of my mind. The minute I go to sleep I wake back up reliving what I saw.

Good night, my diary, I hope tomorrow isn't so bad, but it probably will be. This isn't over yet.