July 6th, 1895
Harry finally asked if there was something wrong after I spent all of today in bed. Obviously there's nothing physically wrong, but I lied to him anyway and told him I had a terrible headache. They haven't been as bad since I got here, bearable, not like I used to get them, but it's a good enough excuse. I can't tell if he bought it, but I sort of rolled over and ignored him after that and just kept to myself.
How could I possibly explain this pressure in my chest? The squeezing, suffocating weight pulling me down, back to where I thought I was clawing my way out of it. I should have thrown my knife over the edge with the letter, but I need it for more than... relief purposes. Harry's going to catch on soon, he's not an idiot, he pays attention. I need to get out of here. I hope after this expedition is done, Carolina will take me with here wherever she's off to next. I need some separation. I think I need to figure out who I am on my own at this point and I can't do that back at home any more.
STB