Rex had finally found the words.
Breach was wild, angry, chaotic, and full of turmoil. And despite the careful attention to detail and organization, her world was disorderly, dysfunctional, and out of control. This place was created from pandemonium, born of pandemonium, and made of pandemonium.
All the answers were here—all the explanations, all the puzzle pieces—and they all fit together to paint the picture that was Breach. Everything that was wrong with her was here, hidden away by the lie that material possessions could make up for people, that perfection was the cost for love.
This was organized chaos.