Caught my reflection in a stream today and saw how wild I look - matted hair, dirt-smudged blue skin, eyes that don't remember how to be soft. Five weeks out here and my body feels more like a weapon than something meant for pleasure. But my cunt still throbs at night, remembering how good it felt to be touched before everything went to hell.

I keep thinking about the first time I made myself cum in the lab - smuggled a smooth, polished stone from the geology exhibit and rubbed my clit raw under the sheets, biting my hand to stay quiet. The fear of getting caught made my pussy clench so tight I saw stars. Now I fuck myself with two fingers under the open sky, moaning loud enough to scare the owls, but it's not the same without the danger.

Maybe that's why I'm still here instead of finding civilization - I'm addicted to the edge. The CIA fuckers would have me strapped to a table again in hours if they found me, but part of me wonders if that's where my body belongs. Built for testing, not for living.

My tail's been twitching all day. Smells like snow coming. If I freeze to death out here, at least my corpse will give some scavenger a good meal.