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May 21, 2021

January 1st, 2017

I find it rather peculiar, and quite ironic, that you of all people have ended up in this predicament, Marie. Before I express my absolute horror at these turn of events in fine ink, I must savor what must be God's own sense of humor, or perhaps a punishment? Needless to say, you were the one who taught me to laugh in the face of adversity, and I will continue to laugh - up until the strain of the laughter reaches a glorious crescendo so powerful that, without a doubt, I will be moved to tears.

As I commit our memories to ink, I have our most beautiful record of the one and only Jimmy Hendrix quietly playing, and I have a glass of full bodied wine at the ready for consumption when I am satisfied with my work. I chose Jimmy Hendrix for a reason, Marie. I remember when, well, you introduced me to that side of art. The rock and roll, drugs, debauchery, and needless fucking - I was apprehensive. My mother, the cold person she was, taught me that art is a fine thing - so I went on to respect the classics. And, to be quite frank, I would much rather be leisurely melting away to the like of Mozart over this Hendrix fellow, yet I cannot help be drawn to him for two reasons:

1.) The rambunctious nature of this art is quite reminiscent of this internal shift I am feeling upon witnessing this unfortunate event.

2.) Mr. Hendrix, as you gleefully shared with me as an odd factoid some time ago, choked on his own vomit whilst overdosing.

Now, I could say that the only thing missing from your departure was the drugs, but what drug is more intoxicating than love? So, you in-fact, died like your idol, Mr. Hendrix. A drug (love), vomit, and suffocation - yet the world is an... odd place? This fate far exceeds the finality of a bullet delivered by one of those glowing-eyed soldiers and you will be spending so much more quality time with me.

I must indulge to whomever it may concern with some context. I recall Marie’s kin, a sister, a raven-haired slut, Evelyn, and how she would entertain me with stories of her times wandering the outlands as they call it. Now, I have always known a great deal of the information she told me. It is, after-all, common knowledge by this point that our glorious Gaia is plagued by a host of new alien species.

One in particular caught my attention, a sort of morbid interest at-first. The ludicrously named headcrab. I would have named it something more, scientific? I do believe the Civil Protection refer to them as parasites. I will now reference these particular creatures as parasites. Not because headcrab is in any way an unsuitable name, yet I feel it is the talk of the common man. But I digress, Evelyn at one time, when she was not taking it from the team, had entertained me one night with a story intended to scare me. You see, Evelyn caught me wandering slightly beyond the perimeter in-which my “betters” deem safe. I will spare you the details of the particulars—after-all, Evelyn is most certainly not a storyteller. It was essentially about a refugee they were escorting back, who, quite foolishly, had a mind of his own—he broke formation to relieve himself and had one of those parasites ambush him.

Now, what got me, what peaked me, what sparked my darkest machinations, was how she detailed the aftermath. The parasite could not quite latch onto the victim’s nervous system, so they spent thirty minutes attempting to pry the thing from his skull. Oh, and I could only imagine the screaming, pleading, and crying! It brought tears to my eyes. Poor, poor, man who was not named!

So, I made an empty promise (after-all, her empty promises to ME were never fulfilled) and swore I would stay within my designated roaming… space…? I owe her nothing, and she only said that because I happen to be good at wrapping bandages. I did venture out! And guess what Evelyn? I retrieved the most perfect, well-muscled, and stout parasite. Let me say something, just for those whom it may interest. This parasite, it’s alien form, is FAR more desirable than you. It is the epitome of oneness. A singularity, absolution, beauty in its finest.

And that beauty, the beauty of this specimen, has only compounded atop my most luscious, luxurious, and lovely Marie.


January 5th, 2017

I meant to keep writing further on the details that lead up to this predicament back when I had time to muse on new-year’s day, but I simply was too tempted by the bottle. Well, one thing led to another and I almost ended up spilling our mutual little secret. You see, for some reason, my precious and angelic Marie, my sweet one, decided to anoint the heavens higher with her wails turned angelic by this ever so strong wine. I am not sure what incited you to well, make a louder commotion than usual, usually the sounds of Mr. Hendrix keeps your noise at bay through a combination of the innate noise of the "Rock N' Roll" and you seemingly trying to focus on the noise despite your visual obstruction.

I was soundly drunk, yet still had my wits about me when your lambda donning sister came to check on us. Evelyn had always been so nosy - and prone to frequent visits. I had neglected that she might make the short walk from outpost to our little living arrangement to check how we are. Your raven-haired sister arrived like a phantom in the dark, alerted by your unusual cadence of speech, and had her submachine gun at the ready. I am most certain that if it was not for me having you soundly restrained that hot-headed minx would have gladly shot before properly identifying you. It shows who really cared about you, my dearest, and most precious, saintly, glorious, Marie.

Evelyn never knew you, or rather studied you as I did. She might have merely been a sister, which commands some respect, yet to me you are a muse. Remember the dozen or so paintings? How I hounded on your sister to be on the lookout for various paints when she went on expeditions? I have, and always, will be committed to preserving your memory. Even now, I look to my finest painting of you, and the last one before your... maturation. Yes, that is what I will call it. My dear Marie, most precious to a point, has matured into a fine woman. You have grown beyond such earthly sugary delights such as your curves and platinum blonde hair - much beyond those temptations to something more metaphysical. Now, it is the ultimate test of love, and how did I show my loyalty?

Evelyn will be my first subject.

Believe me, it was not easy to get the drop on her while in a drunken stupor, but your love did. What is wonderful about being the local doctor for these lambda folks is the ample supply of chloroform available. I had anticipated an eventual use for it, so I had begun to take little by little. And once Evelyn, a face full of ugly tears and sobs, began to run off to confide in her multiple boyish flirts - to presumably coerce them into doing the deed for her, to destroy the visage of her much more attractive counterpart. Fortunately, and deftly, I caught her on the tail end of her run with a rag of chloroform. Goodnight Evelyn.


January 10th, 2017

It appears that my stroke of genius has paid off soundly. You are in good hands my dearest, precious, and venerable Marie. Now, I might be overestimating my role in this, but is it so much of a crime to indulge my own fantasy? Our pursuers are no more due to my well-placed tip via request device. The only individuals to ever know of Evenlyn's disappearance soundly defeated at the hands of Overwatch. Our truck, whose intention was for medical use, to move the wounded about and such, will serve a similar purpose. I first moved Evelyn into the bed of the truck prior to the call, severing her Achilles tendons for extra measure, hog-tied her, fed her ample sedatives, and so on. You know, the works.

On the other hand, you were quite the challenge to move, my dear. You are developing quite nicely, which means claws. Now, do not take this personally, but I have not gotten very close to you in the past five days. I have been busy attending to Evelyn and her constant mewling, so I was caught quite off-guard by your sudden developments. I even stroked my hand down your sides, over your chest, and felt a peculiar hollowness. It seems you are fading into something else - an exposed crevasse to perhaps act as a new mouth? It does appear that you are wilting, so I should consider feeding you.

And as I drove off, I found it quite ironic that the other members took my word when I was in the outpost to change bandages a few days ago. I told them that Evelyn did not come by and I have no idea what happened to her - and they took my word. Is that not just perfect? And quite ironic as-well? They trusted me with their life - and I was the one who leaked their location. Now they are all dead barring one member. I cannot say with absolute certainty that it does not weigh on consciousness. It does in-fact. Those men and women showed us the utmost hospitality. Your sister demonstrated extra attentiveness and care in supporting my artistic pursuits, too bad her attention was more focused on flirting with all the other men, for that made her quite ugly in my view - tainted. I will turn her to a purpose. I will restore you my sweetest, most divine, serene, and wonderful Marie.


January 15th, 2017

It seems fortune favors the bold considering I am reaping such an ample bounty. Due south, an abandoned recreational center shall act as my - oh what to call it? I could simply label it a laboratory, yet that calls a more sanitized connotation to my endeavor. This is anything but sanitary. It has a raw quality to it - lively. Evelyn makes her ample protests and the only reason I have elected against muzzling her, or perhaps cutting her vocal cords, is her sometimes mocking and sometimes pleading only makes me more resolute in my purpose. No, not because I somehow enjoy it - quite the contrary. Seeing her, despite being a lowly lecherous leeching slut, in such a state makes my generous heart bleed ever so much. My continued need for her mockery and pleads stems from a masochistic desire to remain stalwart in the face of resentment - if her pleads and mockery causes me to cease, then my cause is not valid, so I let her plead and cry to keep myself in check.

Back to the question of what to call this humble abode, I have repurposed the locker room into a bit of a hold out. I have Evelyn chained to a drain pipe doubly so and my most sweet and divine Marie isolated in the sauna and chained up as-well. I now lock eyes with her and she averts her gaze - oh she asks for water, yet her words are slurred. Primitive and dumb Evelyn is. Her pleading sounding akin to the mewls of cattle - an animal - a zoo? No, no, a zoo sounds too plain. Ah, I see now. I will dub my abode for the restoration of my most sweet, vivacious, saintly, and wonderful Marie as The Menagerie.


January 16th, 2017

I have found a steady food source for my most precious and saintly Marie. It appears that I was not the first here considering the opposite wing of this center, a gymnasium, is stocked with several stores of food. I spent most of the current day dutifully moving the supplies to my little abode. Evelyn, with her voracious eyes, kept eyeing the rations - and then I remembered she had not eaten in some time. I was sure to water the wilting lily, yet I did not attend to her nutritious needs. I must say though, the piss smelling and gaunt look has an - interesting quality. Evelyn always presented a front akin to being that personable girl - one of the guys? Is that how they refer to her class? Regardless, such fanciful titles granted by comfortable existence are now mute. She is a shriveled and chained thing. I suppose this is the fate of the weak.

So, am I implying that in some way I am stronger? Am I more apt and capable than Evelyn? Need I say more than let my efforts speak for them self. I am the one with spoon and she is the one receiving. Therefore, I am a cut above this mewling thing. Does this mean the benefactors are a cut above us? After-all, their subjugation is on a far grander scale than my mere chaining of one lonely miscreant. Perhaps the process of subjugation is only natural and universal amongst all lifeforms. Similar to how the parasite has subjugated my dearest Marie. It clings to her and controls her movements - to how I controlled raven haired weeping Evelyn via severing her precious tendons.

I now understand the artistic quality of this world. A true lesson in irony and control. Mr. Hendrix, an idol of my heartful, glorious and most luscious Marie, was subjugated by his drugs which led to choking on his own vomit. On a grander scale, governments prior to humanity's have become subjugated. So, by nature, a literal example of this most natural quality, is in-fact the subjugation of my dearest Marie by this parasitic creature. Ah, so now I gaze upon her in a new light. Even now, line to line, I look up from my study past through the sauna glass and gaze with awe.

I look how she has changed, been shaped by the will of something greater, and has been molded. In the image of something to make use of her. The womanly curves all but faded, in-favor of a gaunt appearance and a gaping hole in her chest. Delicate and dainty hands, in which held me, grasped me, through many long nights, now beautiful claws of exact will. I see now that my initial purpose to find a method of restoration has been misshapen and skewed - warped in similar fashion to the parasite warping my love. In other words, it has been perfected.

You, my most precious Marie, whom I would give the world, have been shaped into the most natural form of beauty.


January 17th, 2017

It seems the universe itself has begun to resonate with my understanding. I awoke most abruptly to the screams and pleads of Evelyn:

"William! William!"

Oh, my dear, do not utter my name with your cretin maw - this was my initial thought as I awoke from pleasant slumber. Yet, it appeared that her call was in-fact most welcome. After-all, it created the most pleasant show. I turned on some lighting that I had installed and was most charmed to find a parasite teasingly working its way towards Evelyn. It seems my security measures were not infallible considering the creature had found its way in. However, I cannot help but feel that this thing had been let in by a higher-power who has blessed me in-turn for my new understanding of the nature of the universe. I maintained my distance and watched with glee as the parasite creeped closer and closer to the most pitiful chained thing.

Oh and did that thing plead. It pleaded so fast that I cannot recall anything exact, but the noise she made had warped into a peculiar noise. It invoked the resonance of Marie, whom I assume, in some form, was watching as-well, and she began to roar in unison. It was a symphony that would make the angels in heaven above weep. Now, to my dismay, my attention was so laser focused on the scurrying parasite, preparing to find its way onto the cranium of the most poor Evelyn, that I could fully appreciate the angelic chorus. Instead, I carefully recalled the details - for there would be no video of the occasion, so recalling this occasion for the purpose of pleasure must be done with my mental faculties.

I most definitely recall how the parasite reeled back teasingly, either pausing to correct its course to land sounding on the shaking thing's head, or mocking me by taking its sweet time. And to be honest, I wanted to plant my eager hands on the rims of its most perfect temple of a body, and plant it on the raven throne known as the cranium of Evelyn Maupin. Oh, I would have wanted to do that with the giddy-blushing-giggles of a school girl, yet I am not Peter, nor am I Moses parting the seas - and I am most certainly not ArchAngel Michael combating Lucifer himself, so I merely let God do his work as intended.

And oh did God do work. He did so in a most lovely manner. It initially landed on her chest - her bound hands rendering her defenseless. It sunk both of its love claws into her breasts as it yanked its way up. Drawing a most lovely dribble of red-hot-love onto the locker room floor. Oh, and her random screams shifted to an adamant focus on me. That raven-haired slut shifted her focus onto I, the artist, and attempted to capture her own visage in my mind. Very well Evelyn, I will grant you that pleasantry. I will preserve your maskless visage in the annals of my mind. Not to preserve your beauty, but your ugliness tainted by other men, which is now righted by subjugation. Ah, to be put in your place, most wonderful.

And then it brought those claws upwards one more, heaving to her shoulders, those of which carried the weight of her insurmountable filth. Now a peculiar relief had been found on the face of Evelyn Maupin, who finally looked to be free of sin. Her pleading no more and screams now no more. A lovely silence washed over. The most lovely, holy, precious, and awe-inspiring Marie, my dearest, even obliged and was called to silence in those last sensual moments.

The parasite hesitated for a moment. It gazed up at Evelyn for a moment, as if assessing the worth of its victim. It appeared to be considering whether or not this raven-haired thing was worth subjugating. I am not one to judge, but I most certainly find Evelyn only barely worthy of subjugating. Her most redeeming factor being her status as a bag of water attached to a nervous system. A nervous system, which will soon, and most certainly, be turned to a most great purpose.

And then it happened, the loveliest pop as the familiar noise of the beak puncturing the skull of the most pitiful Evelyn Maupin. To my dismay, and curiously as well, Evelyn did not kick up a fuss as the parasite crowned her. I assume the bitch was well acquainted to her cranial region being penetrated, so it came easily and naturally to her.



January 18th, 2017

I skillfully collected the crimson blood that has begun to drain from the various orifices of Evelyn as her new ruler made itself comfortable atop its throne. I decided this would be time to work with a new medium of art. Evelyn has always bestowed paints to me from her various expeditions, so this was a sort of final gift. Her own blood, a paint for my canvas. I assumed my position behind the easel and committed myself to immortalizing Evelyn's wonderful evolution. At-first, the blood was quite a taxing medium to utilize. How it congeals and dries in a peculiar manner, most different from conventional paints, yet once I began to appreciate the informal and chaotic nature of this blessing, blood became a most perfect medium.

My focus on Evelyn recalled cruel memories of misplaced attempts to court her, which brought the attention of the most wonderful Marie. You Evelyn, always liked the physical, men with big muscles and cool attitudes. You only flirted with my eccentricity. It is almost a shame that I am immortalizing you, yet there is no fee of my own reserves of paints, rather a sacrifice from you - free from any fee. I would not even call your passing a cost, rather a boon. So, I only gain from this transaction.

And to the tunes of Mr. Hendrix I immortalized your memory. Then I remember, it was not Marie who adored him - it was you. Then who did Marie most adore? Then again, does it matter?

I love you my most precious, immaculate, glorious, and treacherous Evelyn.

You have to stay with me now.



January 20th, 2017

Oh, how my heart bleeds. Marie, an afterthought, a passing phase, and naught but my false love has succumbed. It is not like she died from any sort of negligence, but by my own hand. I managed to get the sauna working which I contained her in. My intention was one derived from curiosity. I thought it would be interesting to dehydrate her shambling form within the sauna, or at-least test if these glorious epitomes of subjugation did sweat, which would suggest whether or not how alive they might be.

And, to my enjoyment, she did in-fact sweat. This would explain how the body still remains fresh. They do smell. But no more than they usually did. Especially you Evelyn, I recall that scent, you were an outdoorsy person. Now, I must say your outdoors smell still remains. When I did wish you away, when I did apply a reasonable amount of force to take you, I did anoint the vehicle with some of those pine air fresheners. So, maybe that scent still persists? I will remember you like the pine. Your body will remain, renewed, changing ever so often, but never fading in the fall. Oh, the romance. I must say my similes and metaphors remain unmatched, like you, my most endearing Evelyn.

Yet, on the bright side of things, Evelyn remains. Her vocalizations, wails, and so on possess a certain cadence to them. This cadence, a slow, lurching, and respectful one—as if she understands I enjoy silence, has shown me the light. My wistful infatuation with Marie, a mere farce, had been a waste of time. However, without that time, without that test, without that wretch, then you would have never been made vulnerable to my most envious Evelyn.


Envy, Evelyn, Elope, Endear, Entropy, Enter, Eloquent, Elegant, Element

Echo, Element, Element, Echo, Echo, Echo, Echo, Echo, Echo, Echo

.mailliw uoy etib lliw ti .etib nac ,suoutpulov ,mraw ,elbignat ,hself lautca taht tub - ysatnaf a eveileb tey ,hself lautca hcuot uoy erehw ecaps taht .ecaps elbatrofmocnu tsom taht .ytilaer dna ysatnaf neewteb ecaps a ni gnitsixe pots nac uoy .tsap ruoy gnitnorfnoc pots lliw uoy neht .tseraed dloh uoy tahw su evig .dne lla nac siht .nac i .nac i .nac i .dluoc i .dluoc i .dluoc i .meht rehtoms ot detnaw uoy woh .won thgir uoy rehtoms dluoc i .metsys siht fo smihw eht ot tcejbus .amgine na .edistuo ron edisni rehtien era uoy .rehtegot lla enon sniamer ti tub .sniamer llits ydob ruoy woh nialpxe dluow siht .uoy ot gnimoc saw tahw teg did uoy ,tnemyojne ruo ot ,dna .smaerd ruoy era ew .stcejbo tsuj era ew .daed ron evila rehtien era ew .yrd .su morf deniard lla ,dab eht ,doog eht ,gnihtyreve .em ot su hsiw uoy tahw otni su gnipahs .evol eslaf htiw gnivil era uoy .gnihton ma i .tcejbo ma i ekil em ekat uoy ?uoy ot taht tsuj i ma .gnihton ma i .thguoht gnissap tsuj ma i .mailliw ,gnideelb ma i XX02 ,ht02 rebmeceD

.mailliw uoy ezilatrommi lliw ew woh s'taht .mailliw uoy dnatsrednu ll'ew woh s'taht .emoceb lliw uoy ohw .era uoy ohw fo erutcip a .erutcip a su stniap ti .savnac ruo stniap doolb ruoy .ti

terger ot emoc noos ll'uoy tub dneherpmoc ot emoc noos lliw uoy sgniht .eb taht sgniht retaerg .ereht tuo stcepsa retaerg s'ereht tub .lortnoc nac uoy dlrow a .ti ni evil ll'uoy .ti tuoba maerd ll'uoy .ti ezilautca ll'uoy .ysatnaf nwo ruoy etaerc ll'uoy .emitnaem eht ni dlrow nwo ruoy etaerc ll'uoy .tuo uoy tel ll'ew .lliw uoy tub .t'now uoy kniht thgim uoy .lliw uoy .tuo emoc ll'uoy .yllaer syad wef a ni taht wonk lla ll'ew .taht wonk uoy .ysatnaf kcis a ton .yraid a ni selbbircs emos ton .ekoj a ton .noitoved lanrete dna erac hguorht demrof si ti .ylimaf neewteb dnob a si ereht .reven dluoc uoy yaw a ni reh devol i wonk uoy XX02 ,ht81 rebmeceD

January 1st, 2017

I have been afforded some pen and paper after they discovered my secret. A passing fantasy. A means to control what cannot be. I should have anticipated this. If you write about real people, inject them into fiction, whether it be done for malicious purposes or not—it will elicit a reaction. I apologize to you Evelyn and Marie for subjecting you to the whims of my fantasy. I felt it would be most obvious that I am not capable of the things I described, yet I do not think that obvious reality will alter how you both feel.

Perhaps, the pen being mightier than the sword does have some merit. Words hit an uncomfortable middle ground? Somewhere between fiction and reality? It’s a sort of middle territory that strikes us where we are most vulnerable. It could be something to do with what being written is a window into the brain. Although, I want to say that my dark fantasies emerged from a place of productivity, entertainment, and self-satisfaction. Then that raises why I have these questions?

January 5th, 2017

They caught me writing earlier, looked over what I had written on the first. They were not happy, but decided it was harmless enough. I would write much more. After-all, this is one of the last pleasures I have in my life after it was all taken from me. My art and my monument to her. Yet, I simply cannot dedicate much more time to this.

After-all, my purpose here first and foremost is to be a doctor. Engagements with overwatch are becoming more frequent as of late. From what I hear, they are small skirmishes—but it’s not looking good. We are losing more and more people. Lambda does not seem to want to spare anymore bodies for our cell. I am mostly kept in the dark, but it does seem like the main body is requisitioning much of our supplies. I do imagine we will be asked to move sometime soon. God forbid we stay here much longer.

Sometime, somewhere… later

“What’s that? The box – it looks like the thing we sometimes do sims in,” HERO-44 asked. He took a step out from behind his workbench and began to walk towards it.

HERO-40 snagged him by the shoulder and scolded him, “You ask that after working in the shop for a month? Get back to work, cameras won’t repair themselves.”

HERO-44 averted his eyes back down to his work bench. He initially thought going into the maintenance division of Civil Protection would be fun. The only advantage he could fathom from infinite menial repairs of the most boring combine technology has to offer is the safety of remaining in the nexus for most of the day.

This sucked.

HERO-40 lingered around for a moment longer making sure that 44 stayed on task. He was always looking for an excuse to slack off, but he did good work, so 40 let the bullshit slide most of the time. But that time, him walking towards the box, that was pushing it. He was specifically instructed to not step near the thing, alter it, or just interact with it. He was only given that warning once and he adhered to it, but he was never told to not speak about it.

Oh well, he does good work, so he deserves to hear a fun story. “Right, 44, so that box was a failed experiment.” 40 pulled up a bench and focused her gaze on 44’s work, always sure to double check, not because he did bad work, but rather out of habit.

“A failed experiment? Why’s it still sitting here?” 44 looked back over to the box. It was big enough to fit about twenty people, if it was used for simulation purposes, which 40 always assumed. That is why he always kept quiet about the box. However, it did bug him that he was specifically instructed to not mess with that when hopper mines are sitting on the shelves.

40 replied, “No clue really. Admin had it commissioned, which is probably why… yeah.”

“Uh-huh, so like what’s in it?” He turned his steely mask to his superior, now feeling naturally curious.

44 cleared her throat, then lowered her voice, “People.”

“You’re joking. But you don’t make jokes… you’re not funny…” Despite the vocoder masking inflections, it was obvious he was becoming unnerved at 40 suddenly cracking a joke.

Of-course, 44’s gentle, yet firm, jab into his ribcage reminded him that was not a joke and she was completely serious. It was also done to remind him that she is totally funny, “It was code named the Echo Chamber. I don’t know the details, but some poor ACs got dragged into it and I never personally saw them taken out.”

40 chuckled, nervously of-course, “So this is serious? Like that actually happened?”

“All I know is our former Admin used his illegal funds to produce illegal designs trying to imitate our benefactor’s bio-mechanical designs.” She nodded to cap off that statement, “There’s your treat for the day, fucked up info, keep it to yourself.” 44 stood up and began to leave the workshop.

“Wait you’re leaving?” 40 swiveled on his stool to face her.

“Yep, you still got work to do.”

40 resumed his work on replacing cracked camera lenses, probably some pissed off civie who cracked it, he always enjoyed pondering on how these breakages occurred. He always pondered—it was what kept him sane working long hours in a concrete prison. But the box was a new variable introduced into the equation. 44 gave him just enough info for him to want more. Maybe if this was a story he would walk up to the box, open the door, and see what was inside. But he did not live a fanciful life of adventure, he had to keep his nose down and work.

He spared only one more passing glance at the box before promising himself to never mention it again.

And so, life went on

i’m sorry

For? You already hurt me enough, in more ways than one.

guess pain does that to you. i think i’ll die soon enough. that’s what you do before you die. you just tell everyone your sorry for whatever. no matter how fucked the truth might be.

Apology accepted—good news is today my leg finally gave way. I think we are barely alive, in a state between reality and finality. Is this what it feels like to die an inch at a time?

there you go again. mellow drama and goofy writing even at the end.

I am just glad precious Marie is not here. Although, considering we are the last two remaining I do have my doubts that she would last so long. Then again, maybe it is fate that we are the last two remaining?

well i think they got my arms, legs, nose, and maybe one eye. so, you might outlive me if it’s only your legs. i really don’t think this was meant to last. i swear i remember people coming in here to put some slimy shit on us and with that gone we are falling apart.

Can we not just die together? That would be nice. I would hate to last in here alone for however long that might be. Then again, I might kill over immediately without a rival to compete against in a futile competition of life and death.

i guess in the end we need eachother. at-least in here.

Maybe if we were okay with one another, able to forget, then we would be dead. Hatred is a fuel.

i’m done hating. i think my brain is cooked enough, so i am not sure if i even have the ability to hate anymore.

I saw what you felt. All your fiction and unfiction.

speak english william

How you fantasized about—

god damnit shut up shut up shut up

I never thought you would see… ehm… let’s keep it ambiguous…. them like that.

well i saw more of you than i’d like. but i saw everyone else in this… thing with us… can’t believe bobby thought about tying me up and putting a fuckin clown nose on me. so, you get a pass, freak.

A box of freaks, this is. I do like sharing this mind space with you though, if it means anything. I would rather have my facilities still, yet at-least I am not in here with strangers.

correction… we were strangers before this. familiar strangers.

Now we are not, so Evelyn, would you do something for me?


Can we connect one last time? At the end? And stay like that? I want to immortalize your visage.

fine whatever, don’t have anything better to do

You are so pretty.

i know.

.gnillortnoc dna ,gnitagujbus ,gnirehtoms sthguohT .ecnatsmucric elbatrofmocnu morf tub ,lliw eerf fo tuo toN .esolc a ot thguorb dertaH .dne eht ta rehtegoT .deid yeht os dnA



New member
Mar 6, 2021
wtf is this shit, i hope its a copy pasta cus if you spent all afternoon writting that I feel bad