I finally opened the box. Part of me wishes I hadn't. It's funny, how something you've built up in your mind can feel so much... smaller once it's real. Just scraps of paper, and a photograph.

But that photograph... that's the one that won't leave me alone. A man in Puritan garb from the 1600s. My face—only not mine. A cruel joke? A coincidence? Or something else entirely? Maybe the universe is trying to tell me that no matter what century, I'm destined to be the same. A monster wearing the mask of a man.

And then there's Outreach Day. A yearly reminder that we're expected to play nice, shake hands with Normies, and pretend we belong in the same world. But let's not fool ourselves, it's not a bridge. It's a stage. Outcasts putting on a show to make the audience less afraid of what they don't understand. Maybe that's fine for some people. Maybe Principal Weems or Mrs. Thornhill can keep their smile plastered on while serving double-shot caramel lattes to soccer moms. Me? I'll pass.

Still, I'll do what I'm told. Because sometimes, when you're hunting answers, you don't get to pick the battlefield. And answers are what I need.

The monster is still out there. Or maybe it's closer than I want to admit. Could be hiding in the woods, lurking in the shadows... or looking back at me in the mirror.