Isabel: Happy birthday, Isabel. I'm 18 today, Mother. October 25th. At least that's the day we've always celebrated as my birthday. But you're the only one who really knows the real day. I guess that's why I came to the place, the only place I've ever seen you. I hold on to that day, but you disappeared, and the picture of you is already fading, and it's all I had. I was so happy because you were beautiful and warm, and I even thought I looked like you. But it wasn't you. Not really. God, I don't know what you look like. Maybe I'll never know. It isn't fair. It isn't fair. I need you. I need you. Where are you? Oh, God, it's my birthday and we should be together. Why... How could you leave us? How could you tell us those important information about destinies and saving the world and then just disappear? Oh, God. I... I killed a person. An... an enemy? An... an alien? Does that make it okay? Oh, God. What was she talking about? What was she talking about? She said I betrayed my family. Is it true? Oh, is it true? Am I a terrible person? Answer me. Answer me!