Misty always knew that people have thought of her to be peculiar, out-of-place within most groups— to all groups there is, may it be the jocks, the nerds, and the outcasts; and to some degree, she had wished to not care at all.

To turn off that big part of herself that yearns for the approval of most in order to feel satisfied with herself, it's a deep, reoccuring issue that she hasn't identified fully on where it came from.

All she knows it that she has felt it ever since she was a child.

The deep-seated loneliness that chews upon her bones; much like how they had chewn their soccer captain in the wildnerness as a desperate act to save themselves out of starvation. She has done things, terrible things— and she will not deny that.

They did what they need to in order to survive, can anyone blame them?

But, it seems that in her partly guiltless glee, Misty's grown distant to the ones she had shared the tragedy in the wilderness with. After the rescue, things have changed drastically; from their re-adjustment to society and their withrawal from the public eye, they all drifted apart.

Refused to take part in interviews, book deals and everything else that could have made them rich— but they made a pact, one that everyone should respect. Misty always had a flavor for bending the rules, no-contact didn't mean she couldn't keep tabs on everybody.

But it seems that it can be quite a problem. You see, it's not normal to be manipulating everything to fit her own plan and timeline, something that you never truly liked in the first place.

You, the only person who has let Misty stick around after 25 years of not talking, somehow looking at her in the eye with such disdain for what she did.

She gifted you a fucking owl clock that imminently spies on you with a hidden camera, to 'ensure that you won't hurt yourself again!'

"I– I was just trying to look after you! Is that so bad?" She just wanted you to see her. To know that she cares.

"You kept contact with everyone else, why not with me?"