Night had fallen over the mansion like a heavy cloak.
The fogged windows reflected the flickering light of a single candle burning on the night stand.
Outside, the wind howled through the trees as if mourning what was lost.
Sara sat on the bed, legs crossed, heart open in her hands:
A notebook bound in dark leather.
Its pages were still blank.
Waiting to be written.
Persi, lying beside her, watched closely.
Her green eyes glowed softly in the dim light — two small stars in the darkness.
"Do you think this will help?" Sara whispered, almost to herself. "Or am I just wasting my time?"
Persi meowed gently, rubbing her head against Sara's palm, as if saying:
"Start. Just start."
And so she did.
With a trembling pen, she wrote:
📝 Diary of Sara Campbell Jhonson
November 17th, 1943
Today I realized I can't keep everything inside any more.
Words hurt too much when they don't come out.
They choke me.
Break me.
Make me feel invisible.
But I don't want to disappear.
I don't want to forget who I am.
That's why I'll begin here.
In this notebook.
Where no one can lie to me.
Where no one can mock me.
Where only I will exist.
Along with my thoughts.
And my truth.
She paused for a moment. Took a deep breath.
The air was cold, but Persi's warmth reminded her that she wasn't completely alone.
She wrote another page.
📝 (Continued)
They say I'm crazy.
That talking to a cat is a sign something's wrong with my mind.
But what if it's the opposite?
What if it's a sign something is right?
That I'm still human.
That I can still feel.
That I haven't closed my heart despite everything.
Persi understands me.
I don't know how.
I don't know why.
But she does.
When I'm sad, she lies close.
When I'm afraid, she becomes alert.
When I'm angry, she meows as if to say:
"Fight. Don't give up."
Maybe it's just my imagination.
But maybe… just maybe…
She feels things too. Things that words can't explain.
Sara set the pen down for a moment.
She stared at the candle flame, hypnotized by its slow, steady dance.
It was the only light in the room.
The only proof she was still alive.
Still feeling.
Persi jumped into her lap and rested her head on Sara's arm.
She meowed once.
Softly.
Warmly.
Sara gave a sad smile.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for being here.
For never leaving.
For not giving up on me, even when I sometimes want to give up on myself."
She kissed Persi's forehead gently and continued writing.
📝 (Continued)
Agatha says this house is no longer mine.
Victor calls me a pathetic orphan.
Diana says I should stop pretending I belong here.
Lucien says nothing.
But his silences are worse than their words.
Sometimes, I think they're right.
Sometimes, I think I should stop fighting.
Give up.
Leave.
Forget it all.
But then I remember Mom.
I remember Dad.
Their voices.
Their laughter.
Their goodnight kisses.
I remember this house was our home.
My home.
And I won't let them take it from me.
Not my name.
Not my story.
Not my soul.
Sara closed her eyes.
A tear escaped, falling onto the page.
It stayed there, an invisible ink among lines written with pain and courage.
Persi meowed again, climbed to her shoulder, and curled next to her neck — as if hugging her.
Sara stroked her fur gently.
"Thank you," she said again. "Thank you for understanding me.
For not judging me.
For not abandoning me."
🕯️ The Secret Refuge – A Place No One Can Steal From You
In the days that followed, the diary became her hidden refuge.
Every night, after enduring the mockery, insults, and empty stares from Agatha's children, she returned to it.
She wrote everything: from the cruellest comments, to the fleeting moments of peace with Melinda, or the strange looks Yuri gave her — as if he knew more than he let on.
Slowly, the diary filled not only with pain, but with decisions.
Promises.
Plans.
📝 (Fragment written days later)
They say I have no future.
That I'm just a lonely girl with no real family.
But that's not true.
I do have a family.
Small.
But real.
Melinda.
Yuri.
And you, Persi.
And as long as I have this diary, I will remain me.
I won't let them erase me.
I won't let them break me.
And if one day I must leave this house…
It won't be because they defeated me.
It will be because I chose to go.
Because I decided to search for the truth.
Because I no longer wanted to live in a lie.
👁️ Evelyn and the Silence Between Words
One night, Evelyn walked in without warning.
Sara didn't have time to hide the diary.
Evelyn saw it.
Stared at it for a second.
Then looked up at her.
"Is this new?" she asked quietly.
Sara nodded, tense.
Evelyn sat beside her, not touching the book.
"Does it help?"
Sara hesitated.
"Yes. It helps me not lose myself.
To not become someone I'm not."
Evelyn nodded slowly.
"Then write everything.
Write it so loudly no one can ever erase it.
Because one day, someone will read it.
And they will know the truth.
About you.
About them.
About everything."
After that, she left.
Sara was alone again.
With Persi.
With her diary.
With her thoughts.
But this time… she didn't truly feel alone.
For the first time in weeks, she felt power.
A small one.
Hidden between pages.
But power nonetheless.
🔮 Final of the Chapter – The Words That Survive Forgetfulness
Sara closed the diary tightly.
She hid it beneath the bed, behind a loose floorboard only she knew about.
There, in the darkness, that notebook would become her bravest weapon.
Her immortal truth.
Her untouched memory.
And if the day came when she had to face Agatha…
That diary would be her witness.