Distraught. Too much crying. Almost had to power down my Ears. Echoing sobs underground almost deafening. Want to get it over with. Not exciting. No challenge. Going to kill her like the meek animal she is.
Point of entry: near the cross-intersection. She found our chalk along the way. Why do they always take it? Continued on downstairs path to train platform. Wrote near vending machines, under clock. Tick tock.
Didn't live much longer. Tried to skirt sides of upper path. Big gaping hole in middle. Even with floating tiles below, lethal head trauma. Kangaroo dead. Fetus too.
* * *
Addendum: floating tiles gave way when she decayed cold. Left to rats on tracks below. Gone now. No trace left.
Except the damn graffiti.