Sibyl's hand moved around until Bekka pushed the pad to where she could feel it. Almost as if she was actively behind the wheel, she pulled the notebook closer before fumbling to find the pen that went with it. Luckily for Bekka, her other hand remained in the water and did not go to the book.

The redhead's blank face continued to look straight ahead, towards the television and tilted slightly to the side, although her hand moved on the paper. It started with a series of loops, each connected to one another.

Then the words began coming. They came in cursive, each word connected to the last as if she was unable to lift the pen between each. It didn't even lift from the paper as she moved down to another line. One short sentence. Then two. Each were repeated in succession even as she began to run out of that sheet of paper.

"Nature had no part in little master's death. Fear those of the cross.."