New Digs

I've been hooked up now.  My own little functioning place.  TV, bed, food, gamecube.  I've forgotten most of these things, damn it felt good.

No mindscrews from the thing either.  Haven't even seen it.  Maybe its due to being back on my meds.  Gives me a great sense of comfort at least.  I take them and I just don't stress.  Not even when nature calls and I have to, well....look at what is left of me.  Its unnerving right now, but when I'm doped up, life is almost decent.

Until he shows.

He still doesn't tell me much, I think he's just expecting me to do things.  If I am following him somewhere, he just turns his head towards me, subtly, expecting me to do something.

I don't even know these people, and Spencer's certainly not one to tell me what is happening.  Two days ago, he had me tag along with him.  He just stood there, looked at me, then turned expecting to leave.  That look, it is a whip across my back, I nearly leapt out of my spot just to keep him from getting any worse.

Anything to keep from it getting worse.

He took me along that place, the Path, they call it.  It is...well, depending on if I've had my meds or not, its either mind numbing horrific, or unpleasant. 

There's this road obviously, a beaten trail, like in grass.  All about you there's something a lot like wind.  It comes from any direction, making you wince from the pressure.  The leaves are carried on the wind, naturally.   They are strangely soft, almost like cotton.  I kept one from the travel but it either disappeared or got lost.

The scale of the place is very weird too, it reminds me of those 2.5D games where you'd walk and walk, and whatever was in the distance only moved a little.  It was like the perspective was clumsy, I guess.  The gigantic tree in the background didn't help matters.  Half the time I heard labored breathing on the wind, but never saw whatever made the noise.

Anyway, we make it through, not so much that we do anything different, just that he stops, and I stop, and we're not there anymore, as if everything melted away.

No idea where we were, and I wasn't going to ask.  I just knew we were in some apartment complex, a hallway somewhere.  He opened a door, and some guy inside apparently recognized him, because he got panicked real fast.  He apologized for something, he found himself in the corner of his apartment, just by Redlight walking towards him, quietly herding him there.

And then he looked at me, then quietly stepped aside.

I didn't know what to do, but I stepped up.

This guy, just some guy with glasses and dark hair was weeping for his life in front of me.  When he got a good look at me, he just gasped.

He feared me.  It was as if death had come for him.

It felt so good, to have that power, to be in control.

He did something wrong.  I didn't care what it was.  He lost control of the situation, and it was all mine.

I...don't feel like continuing right now.

Under his watchful eye

Had a few days after that last post to sit and figure things out.  Sure I've sort of rushed into something here, but really I don't see any other choice for me. 

That said, dealing with the devil in a red hoodie isn't going to be fun.  I've only seen him once so far.  He just showed up for a bit, gave me some money, a cell and a charger, and said something cryptic about work to do soon.  I asked him to tell me what's going on, to at least know what I am supposed to do.  He just gave me a look that I remember far too well, and suddenly I didn't give a damn anymore about what was to be done.  I did manage to ask for those anti psychotics that I had before, because holy shit I need them nowadays.  He relented to that, not that he had them on hand, but he seemed confident he'd get ahold of them for me.

Then he left.  Just disappearing into thin air, he'd take a step, and suddenly not be there anymore.  Much like someone else I know.  I know *what* happens, but I don't know how it happens.  I understand this Path stuff, I've read enough to get that there's a place that people can walk into if they know how.

I don't know how it happens, or what you have to do, nor what it looks like there.  I admit, its a neat trick, its majorly fucked up to consider that there's people out there who can effectively motherfucking teleport, but I guess when you're exposed to supernatural shit after a while it rubs off.  I've read about people trying to go toe to toe with the monster, or surviving utterly deadly moments, even claiming to do magic of some sort.

I don't know how I feel about all this, but I'm sick of being helpless, I'm sick of the stares on the street.   At least today, I could afford to eat.  Bought myself some gloves but I don't like wearing them.  It doesn't feel right, and I use that term loosely, since I can't really feel anything in my hands. 

On the bright side, I haven't seen anything that I shouldn't.  I managed to sleep for three hours as well.  I have to say, there's a strange sense of security now that things are 'official'. 

I wouldn't say things are looking up, but damn if I didn't enjoy a pizza, some soda and a night of fucking rest.  I wonder if this is part of the gimmick, being a bad guy.   Not having to deal with horrors anymore, not running for my damn life every day. 

I'm sure things are bound to get worse, but today I can almost smile...

Through the cracks

Some of us don't get the easier path.  I know, I know, there's no real easy road for the Stalked, but there is an easier path. 

People who find solace with others, people who they can count on.  Whether it be the kinship formed of necessity, or a relationship that got interfered with, there are those out there who can come together when needed.

Hell, there's people out there who drive halfway across the country to save some poor fucker. 

Takes guts.

Some of us don't get that luxury.  Some of us fall through the cracks.  I get that, I mean, its bound to happen.  Not everyone can be saved, not everyone finds a team to help.

Which is why I don't feel bad at all.  Because we all have hard choices to make.  Because when it comes down to it, we stand alone at one point or another.

I am so damn tired of being alone, I haven't had a real conversation in months,  I haven't FELT anything in weeks.

Its horrible, yeah...It really is.  The same guy who did such things.

and I'll still throw anyone under a bus to get away, to get gone.
because I'm not really one of you guys, you Runner types.

And I'll do what I have to do.  Because its the only way I can survive.

I'll take solace with the only one who offered me a hand.

IF


IF

so many ifs

If he can find a way to keep  that thing away from me

IF I can get my necessities met.  I haven't had a decent meal in months, or a bed at least.  Clothes I don't care about.  I'll never take off what I'm wearing.  I'll NEVER see what is left of me.

IF I'm not alone anymore

IF

If

if

if I can be human again

if just for a little while.

god help me

Running on fumes

I'm going back on the road.  I don't know where I am, don't care where I'm going.  I need to get out.  I'm sick of burns, I'm sick of atrophy, sick of looking at myself, but I don't really have any choice in the matter.

I'll just be some horrible looking fucker trying to escape this shit.


I'll write more when I figure out what I have to do, not that anyone's really reading nowadays.  Whatever.

nothing matters anyway

There's not much to say.  I just sit here again, in another hospital bed again, without much to do or see.  So I've been reading and trying to figure out where I am.

I have no clue.

My room looks sort of shabby, 2nd ratye even.  There's a hallway, but there's no movement, there's food but I don't know who brings it.

I can stand again I

no, it doesnt matter  just a freak it   i just have nthing and i cant do this

dont even think
theres anything left of me now

all i can sleml is just gasoline  that smell

so stupid   had to prove my life

wanted freedom,  and now

just charred
monster

just so afraid
even like this   so afraid of dying

i dont know why

dont even kno what to do anymore

just suffer


suffer

i can type bter now  but nott too good

bastard

shouldk be dead, damnti  should just dead

i dont think i my fingers  they work but
but
no flesh

just charrred
like claws

i ll kill him
or i make
him kill me

lost everythng now

my life
hands
face

just a monster
noaw

hardto typer  using pen   fgingersd   burbned  dead

shoiuld havedied now
hporrib le

monmster

monstre