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Isolation

isolation
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Estimated reading time โ€” 32 minutes

Day 1

Alright, this is day one of seclusion for me. My therapist recommended that I get away for at least a week to try and get my shit together. He also suggested that I keep a journal of my time in voluntary isolation to keep track of my progress. I’m not entirely sure what this is supposed to accomplish, but I guess we hit a wall in my treatment, or something. Between mild schizophrenia, a boat load of other mental ailments, combined with some less than healthy drug and alcohol abuse, he seemed to think it best for me to get away from the world and just be alone for a time. It might not be too bad out here, if I’m being honest. I’ve never really hurt for money, so I opted for a nice, private beachfront house rather than some sort of cabin in the woods. I’ve watched way too many horror movies to think that would be a good idea when I’m trying to ‘heal’. It’s nice and peaceful out here, and the closest thing to civilization is a small town some thirty, or so, miles from here. Of course, that does mean that I’ll have to take a drive if I need anything, but I stocked up when I passed through there, on the way here.

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I feel like Doctor Samuel has been helping me, and I don’t doubt that a little isolation could be good for just about anyone, really. It is beautiful here, though. I can see for miles over the ocean, and the sky is such a vibrant blue today. The breeze feels wonderful, and the sand feels lovely between my toes. The house itself is gorgeous, and it’s fully furnished with all the creature comforts. It even has a full bar, which will make for some peaceful times reading beside the fireplace. Good thing the Doc didn’t know about that part. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, as far as I’m concerned. I do have wifi and cable, too, so can’t complain there either. I do wonder how that works, as this place is so far removed from civilized life. I used to live in the country, some years back, and there were plenty of other housing developments and neighborhoods around, but I never could get wifi out there. Only cable. Still, I can’t say I know much about that sort of thing, and I’m sure as shit not going to argue about the convenience. I think this next week is going to be pretty nice. Just what the doctor ordered. Quite literally so. Anyway, that’s enough for today, journal. I’m going to enjoy the rest of my day, what little there is left of this one, anyway. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

Day 2

I didn’t accomplish much on the first day, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to achieve, to tell you the truth. It was pretty late when I got here, yesterday, and I was pretty beat from the drive, so I just nursed a few drinks while watching some mindless tv and turned in early. Maybe it’s because I’m so used to living in the city, but out here with no life around, with the exception of the population beneath the water, you hear some strange shit. I was buzzing pretty good when I laid down, so it could’ve just been my swimmy head and the waves brushing the shore outside. Hell, maybe it was the seagulls squawking against the emptiness beyond these walls that sounded like laughter, in a way. That’s what it sounded like in the bedroom, anyway. It was like kids laughing which, combined with the odd tapping sounds, made me imagine children quietly running through the hallway outside my bedroom door. I even got up a couple of times to look around, but after a while I just shrugged it off and passed the fuck out. It could also be that my half sleeping mind took me back to my apartment in the city where my upstairs neighbors brat of a kid is always hammering his feet across the ceiling. I swear it sounds like the little shit is just going to break through and land on my coffee table, sometimes. I really need to move out of there. I do, sort of, wonder what keeps me in that ratty, old building to be honest. Like I told you yesterday, journal, I’m not exactly poor. I could certainly afford something better.

I wonder where I put my keys. I thought I might have left them on the dresser at home, but that would’ve made it hard to drive here. I did drive here, right? Why am I asking you, journal. You’re a book. You’re not going to know where I put my keys. I just looked outside, and my car is right there in the parking spot where I left it. I knew I drove here. Weird. I keep feeling like there’s something I forgot to do before I left home. Not like I left the stove on, or anything, but I just have that strange, nagging feeling in the back of my head. I should probably take my meds. My doctor prescribed dopamine to help with my schizophrenic symptoms. Honestly, the name made me laugh, at first. Dopamine. It’s like ‘Dope of mine’. The pharmacist didn’t seem to find it as funny as I did when I asked him for the dope of mine, though. The old lady in line behind me enjoyed it, at least. Speaking of dope, I wonder if I could score any weed out here. Maybe I’ll take a trip into town later.

Though my sleep had plenty of odd interruptions, I still rested well. I actually slept in for the first time in, I don’t even know when. Having to be at work at seven am, doesn’t exactly allow much opportunity for just turning off the alarm and sleeping until I wake up naturally. I hate the job, too. It’s not where I saw myself when I was a kid, you know? I was never the office job type, and that goddamn cubicle practically suffocates me every damn day. Gerald, my uptight douche canoe of a manager can eat a giant sack of dicks, for all I care. He may be solely responsible for my mental state of late. Well, him and my shit bag of a dad, if you can even call him that. My apologies, journal. You didn’t ask for my life story and random bitch session. We’re here to rest and relax, and that’s just what we’re gonna do. I do need to look for a new job, though. That being said, I don’t even need to work, do I? Why the hell do I put up with that prick bastard, Gerald, when I could just retire, if I wanted to? I’ve made some strange decisions in my life, for sure. I don’t know. I’ll see you later, Journal. I think I’m going to go for a walk. Maybe jump in the water for a spell.

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Christ, the water is cold! I jumped in for, like, a minute and rushed back out. Almost busted my ass on the sand, too. Well, not that sand would really bust anything, I suppose. The doc told me I have a tendency to overreact to little things, but wet sand can hurt like a bugger! I took a hot shower after I ran back into the house, which made me feel pins and needles all over. Once my body got used to the heat again, it felt pretty damn nice, and I stayed in there until my fingers were all wrinkled and pruney. There’s a hot tub outside, so I may go out and sit out there later tonight when it gets dark. I’ll take my cooler with me, too. One cannot enjoy the hot tub experience without one’s trusty beverage. I don’t know why, but that line made me laugh a little. You probably think I’m batshit, don’t you, journal? Just for that, I’ll leave you inside. No hot tub for you, buddy boy.

What the hell was I thinking? There’s no hot tub out there. Must be seeing shit. I still sat outside and enjoyed the night air, though. There’s a boat, way out on the water. I can’t tell what kind it is from here, but it’s probably some sort of yacht, if I had to guess. I’d love to own a boat. Maybe I’ll buy a boat and quit my shitty job. Just enjoy the open sea and tour the world. Would you like to come along, journal? I don’t know how many pages you have, in all, but you’re pretty thick. I bet we still have a good few years left together, bud. I need to give you a name, I think. I can’t keep calling you journal. That would be like naming my kid, well, kid! I don’t have a kid, though. I don’t think I want children. I’d probably be a shitty dad, like my old man. I wonder if he had schizophrenia, too. They say it’s hereditary, and that would explain a lot about his parenting methods. I don’t think he ever went to a doctor his whole life, now that I think about it. I can’t speak for before I came along, but I don’t remember him going to any. He wouldn’t even go to the emergency room after he punched his hand through the living room window. He just wrapped his hand up and went about his day. I think it still bled for, like, three days! He was a stubborn son of a bitch, that’s for damn sure. I didn’t know there would be a full bar here, so I bought a sixer of beer at the liquor store when I drove through that little town a ways back. I went ahead and knocked back all of them over the last few hours, but I dropped the last one before I could finish it. Damn thing landed right on its base. It shattered only on the bottom, which looked cool as shit, to be honest. I’ve never seen that happen before! It did empty out most of the beer before it tipped over, but at least I got a good buzz before I let that last one slip through my fingers.

I think I’m going to go to bed, journal. It’s getting late and I’m pretty sleepy. I’ll think of a name for you tomorrow.

Day 3

Bob! That’s what I’m going to call you. Do you like it? It’s a great name because you can flip it upside down or turn it around, and it still spells Bob! I thought about naming you Richard after my dad, but I don’t like the idea of scribbling away on my leather bound dick all day. I should be a comedian. I got a million of these.

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I didn’t sleep for shit last night. I heard the laughing kids again, and they were certainly not seagulls this time. It wasn’t just the footsteps running through the hall this time either. One of the little bastards pounded on my bedroom door! I jumped out of bed and threw the door open, but they were gone! I went around and turned every single light in the house on. I even went outside and ran around with a flashlight for a fucking hour. I think someone is fucking with me. I bet it’s the people on that boat. It does look a little closer today, so I bet they got close last night and cut the lights off, so I couldn’t see them in the dark. I may have forgotten to lock the door last night, too. Before I go to sleep tonight, you bet your ass I’m checking every door and window. There’s an inherent eeriness in kids’ laughter, you know? I think that’s why they always have some sort of creepy ass ghost kid in horror movies. Why the hell would anyone want to have children, I will never know. You have to be freaked out all the time, hearing that shit.

I think I’m going to break up with Becky, bob. She keeps talking about moving in together, but we’ve only been going out for, like, six months! It’s a little premature, don’t you think? Why do I keep asking you questions? Great. I just asked another one. If you actually answer me, Bob, we’re both way more fucked up than I thought. Maybe I’ll get a dog. I had one when I was a kid, so I’m sure I could handle one now. He would always bark, though. Shit got on my nerves, something serious. He was a big old mutt, too. Had that deep, “I’ll fuck you up’, sort of bark. Still broke my heart when he died, though. I can’t remember what happened, but I remember my dad wouldn’t even let me see the body before he buried him. He told me it’d scar me for life if he let me see it. I am pretty fucking scarred though. I wouldn’t be in therapy and loaded up on dope of mine if I wasn’t. At least he tried, I suppose. Maybe he wasn’t such a shitty father after all. I think I’m going to go for a drive, Bob. Do you want to come along? Ugh, don’t answer that. You stay here. I’ll be back later.

I didn’t realize what a hovel that town was when I passed through on the way here. I stopped and got some necessities at the grocery store on the ride in, but I don’t remember it being as run down as it looks now. It looks like the city may have a population of maybe a couple of hundred, and half of the buildings have boarded up doors and windows. Maybe they got hit with a hurricane some time back or something, and just never rebuilt. The guy at the counter in the liquor store looked sick, too. I didn’t even want to accidentally brush against his hand when he handed me my change, so I just told him to keep it. Fucker didn’t even thank me! It’s strange to see a place so dilapidated so close to a beautiful place like this. The air feels so much cleaner here than it did there, too. I’ll tell you this much, Bob, if I feel the urge to go into town again, I’ll drive in the other direction and see where it takes me. I think I’m gonna take a shower. I feel gross now.

I didn’t get much of a chance to enjoy my shower. Some guy came pounding on the front door when I was right in the middle of lathering my hair. I wrapped a towel around me and ran downstairs, ready to beat someone’s ass if it wasn’t something important. Turns out it was the guy that actually owns this house. He was one strange freaking individual, too. He was probably at least six foot, five, bald as a damn cue ball, and he was pretty pale looking. You’d think he’d have at least some kind of tan, owning a place like this. I invited him, which felt kinda strange asking the owner if he’d like to come into his own house. He asked me if I was enjoying the stay, and all that good stuff. I mean, he was asking genuinely concerned questions, I guess, but the way he asked them felt more like a damn interrogation. He just had that domineering way about him. I found myself backing up further into the chair I was sitting in, all defensive like. I told him about the noises and that I thought someone was trying to mess with me, but he just said the mind can play tricks with the sounds of the ocean and shit. I don’t know, though. He seemed like he knew something and didn’t want to tell me, you know? I wonder if he was just checking in to make sure they were getting to me. I bet he’s the ringleader. He’s probably not even the owner, and just wanted to get a lay out of the place so they can fuck with me more efficiently. Maybe I should have brought a gun.

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I think I’m going to stay awake tonight. It’s beginning to get dark outside, and I keep hearing things. I could’ve sworn I saw something out of the corner of my eye a little while ago, but it was just light reflecting on the tv. I’m not sure where the light was coming from, but it could’ve just been the sun setting causing light to just pan down through the window, like movie credits in reverse, or something. Either way, I’m going to check it out. I grabbed a fire poker, since I don’t have a lot of options to defend myself with. I could grab a butcher’s knife from the kitchen, but I think the poker looks more intimidating if I see anyone out there. I’ll be back in a bit. Keep an eye on things here, will you, Bob? What the hell am I saying?

I didn’t see anyone out there, but I swear to Christ I heard the laughing again. It sounded like it was coming from way over to the side of the beach, where it meets the trees. I ran over there and shouted out that I was armed and I’d fucking kill them, but they just laughed harder! What the hell are they playing at? Someone’s fucking with me, I swear to fucking god! The boat was closer, too! It’s maybe, I don’t know, like, forty or fifty feet from the shore now. The light from the moon was playing tricks with the water, but at first, it looked like an honest to God pirate ship or something! I was like, “Do they even make those anymore?” Until I got distracted by laughing again. It sounded like they were running through the sand right behind me too! I turned around and, of course, nothing was there, but when I looked back at the water, the boat just looked like a yacht again. I’m starting to think this dope of mine is just fucking with my head more and more. Doc told me it was supposed to stop me from seeing shit, but it sure as hell isn’t doing the trick, I’ll tell you that for fucking free. I’m going to call him tomorrow. This solitude thing ain’t working out. Not for me, anyway. I’m definitely not sleeping tonight. I’m going to catch these bastards and make them sorry they fucked with the wrong mother fucker! I’ll get back with you tomorrow, Bob. They need to believe I’m sleeping, so I can’t talk to you any more tonight.

Day 4

I saw them, Bob! I fucking saw them! Got one of them across the back of the head with the fire poker too! They were fast for having tiny little, scampering legs, but they weren’t planning for me to be on guard. Even though I splattered the wall with the little bastard’s blood, he still got away from me. There were, like, six of them. They were all wearing Halloween masks, but they still laughed and giggled like stupid little kids. They scream like kids too, or at least the one I clipped did. I called the police, and they’re on their way here as we speak. I’ll show them where I sprayed the wall with tiny hoodlum blood, and they’ll have to believe me. I ain’t got any cuts or anything, so they can’t say I just bled myself to sell the story. Sure they’ll try to make some excuses or pretend there ain’t nothing there, or something, but I know what I saw. I know what I felt when the iron rod made contact too. There’s no way that kid don’t have a hole in his skull now. I bet he dropped close by, or something. Probably running on pure instinct when I nailed him. Oh yeah, he’s sorry now! Fucked with the wrong guy this time, buckaroo! There’s the blue lights now. I’ll be back, Bob.

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Fucking figures. Of course they didn’t believe me. They even threatened to arrest me if I wasted their time like this again. Yeah, I know it’s a long drive to get here, but this shit is serious! I’m being fucking harassed! As I predicted, they claimed they couldn’t see the blood on the wall. If I’m being honest, I didn’t see it either now. I bet somebody washed it off while I wasn’t looking. Maybe they did know I was awake, and they hung a tarp up, or covered the wall with a thin strip of cardboard or something of the like. That’s probably it. They set me up. That’s why the kid kept running, because he wasn’t hurt in the first place. Fuck! I know I made contact with something, though. Did I hit the wall? Nope. I didn’t hit the wall. Just checked it and there’s not even a mark! Maybe the fake blood spatter wall was metal? It didn’t feel like I hit metal, but I had a lot of adrenaline pumping too. Maybe it’s just lack of sleep or something. Could I have inadvertently fallen asleep and dreamed it all? It felt so real! I need to call Samuel. This dope of mine is messing with my head. Maybe I’m not really schizophrenic and he’s performing some sort of sick experiment on me! Like some sort of fucked up social experiment for one of his stupid journals, and I’m just the perfect guinea pig, with my background. If he’s the one behind this, the pharmacist had to be in on it, too. The bottle says dopamine, but maybe it’s actually some sort of hallucinogen. I need to do some research on this shit. I bet it doesn’t even look like the pill I’m supposed to be taking. Oh yeah, I’m on to you Doctor Sam.

They’re supposed to be pink! The fucking pills are supposed to be pink, and these are green! I knew it! I knew I wasn’t going crazy! I flushed every one of the goddamn green little fuckers and I called my lying ass Doctor. Of course he claimed that I’m having some sort of episode or reaction to the pills. He even said he’d call something else in, but I’ll be damned if I trust a word he says, now. I told him I was onto him, and he told me to calm down and come home immediately, or have someone come pick me up. Like I know anyone who’d drive all this fucking way to get me. Who the hell does he think I am!? Oh yeah, I’m going home, alright. As soon as I get there, I’m kicking the shit out of a certain doctor too. He even had the nerve to bring up my dad. Last thing I asked him for was a therapy session over the phone. I know damn well it’s not my fault he’s dead. Bastard attacked me, and I defended myself. He was just the first in a long line of folks who thought they could push me around and get away with it. It’s his own fault, really. He’s the one who taught me how to use the gun in the first place. He showed me so I could protect myself if anyone ever tried to hurt me. What the fuck did he expect when he was the one who fucking hurt me. I was still a kid when he tried pushing me around. Well, I’m a grown ass man now. What does my dear Doctor expect to happen now? He’s just trying to save his own ass now. I tell you, Bob. You better never try pushing me, or you’ll get yours too!

I’m sorry, Bob. I got myself worked up and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I let that guy get to me, and it’s probably my own fault for trusting him in the first place. Maybe I’ll stay out here just one more day. Sure, I haven’t been sleeping much, but now that I’m not taking the dope of mine, maybe my head will clear up. I think I am going to go for a drive though. No way I’m going back to tetanus town, but maybe I’ll see what’s out the other way. It does make me feel better, talking to you, though. You may be my only real friend, even if you were just an empty book before I started scribbling in your guts. I’ve decided I’m not going to kick Samuels ass, either. I suppose intellectuals, like him, have to experiment on people if they want to make a change in the world, or at least get their name in the history books of mental health, and whatnot. Once whatever it is he had me on is completely out of my system, I’m sure I’ll be back in the right mindset. Just bear with me, Bobby, my boy. The world seems quieter again, and I think I’m starting to feel like me again, or at least getting there. I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up.

There’s literally nothing out there. Not that way, anyway. I drove for, like, two hours and didn’t see so much as a single gas station. Luckily, my little Honda is economical, but I may have to visit the shitty little town that time forgot, if I want to get gas anytime soon. Maybe I should try to get one of those electric cars. I’m sure I can afford one, if I can afford to stay in this place. Strangely, I can’t even remember what I paid for this week. Probably just my foggy brain coming down from whatever those little green pills were, I’m sure. Some more good news, though. I don’t see the boat anymore, so that may have just been another hallucination. Or maybe, whoever they were decided to move on. Either way, I should sleep better tonight. It’s raining outside now, so I won’t be spending any time on the beach tonight. I should call Becky. Maybe tomorrow. She hasn’t called me, though. Maybe she’s finally grown tired of my shit. I’ll call her tomorrow. No reason to stress anything like that. Honestly, I’m pretty fucking exhausted. It’s been a rough couple of days, Bob. I think I’ll turn in early tonight. See you tomorrow, bud.

Day 5

They cut me, Bob! They fucking cut me deep! They are real! It’s not the fucking drugs. Jesus Christ, it hurts! I must have been sleeping hard, because I didn’t even feel them strap me down. It wasn’t until one of them bit my fucking left thumb off that I even knew they were in the room. I was fighting as hard as I could, but the straps were tight. How did they get them so tight!? They only looked like they were, like, eight or nine years old, at most! How was the little bastards jaw so fucking strong. There were three of them in the room, and I heard more laughing outside the door. Jesus fuck, I can believe this shit is really happening! He just kept biting off my fingers, while the other two were just carving into my chest and stomach with kitchen knives. Little shits didn’t even realize I was slipping loose when all the fucking blood that was spilling out if me made it so as I could get my right hand free. Before the ones cutting on me knew what happened, I jammed my fingers into the chubby little biters eyes. He started wigging out and flailing around, while chunks of my fucking bird finger were spewing out of his mouth. I didn’t quit digging in his sockets until he couldn’t move anymore. Got them deep into his fucking brainpan and the lights went out for the evil little shit. The other two were out of the door by the time I got the rest of the straps off me. I caught them though. Oh yeah, I caught those little surgeons and I showed them how a real fucking surgeon operates! There’s bits of them all the way down the hall, and I’m going to fucking leave them there too! If any of the ones who were laughing on the other side of the door come back, they’ll see what happens when you fuck with me! I need to get to a hospital. It’s a good thing I’m a righty, I’ll tell you that shit for nothing. I still have the ring and pinky fingers left, though. Thank God the little fucking cannibal didn’t start with THE MOST USELESS FUCKING FINGERS ON MY HAND!!!! FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!

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I’m sorry, Bob. Bob, my friend. Bobby boy. It’s shock, I think. I think I’m in shock, Bob. I called 911. Called ambulance. Blood loss. Lost blood loss. I don’t know how much. Don’t know if it’s just mine. Blood. Blood everywhere. Bloody walls. Bloody floor. Bloody me. Bloody Bob. Sticky blood. Blood all over. I think. I think I’m going to pass out until the ambulance get

Day 6

It felt so real. I know it was real. Wasn’t it? I woke up and it was morning again. I think it was morning. It was light, but it was light when I passed out, too. I looked at the calendar, and it’s the twelfth now. That means it’s the sixth day today. Right? Yesterday would have been the fifth, so what happened? There’s no blood. There’s no bodies, or the bits of them I left scattered through the hallway. My left hand is fully fingered. It had to be a dream, but I know that it wasn’t. Dreams don’t hurt! Not really. That’s the way it works, right? I need to get away from here. Maybe it’s this place, you know? Maybe there’s something in the air, or the water, or something. Whatever turned that town into Chernobyl’s little brother, you know? Maybe it was a spill or something toxic in the water supply, but it’s powerful shit. That’s a damn fact. I’m packing my shit and getting the hell out of here, right now. First thing I’m doing when I get back is finding a new psychiatrist. Even if I didn’t need one before, I sure as shit need one now! I’m going to stash you in my luggage until I get back home, Bob. Talk to you soon.

It’s gone, Bob. The town isn’t there anymore, well not all of it anyway. A lot of the buildings have crumbled, as if it’s been deserted for centuries. There’s not the slightest sign of life anywhere around. I thought I could have driven in the wrong direction, at first, but there was nothing out that way yesterday. I know it was the same town. The more I think about it, I know it wasn’t dilapidated when I first drove through it on my way here. What could cause a town to rapidly decay in a matter of days? It has only been days, right? I couldn’t get gas. The gas station was in ruins and I couldn’t access any gas that may still lay beneath the concrete ground. I had to turn around and come back to this God forsaken beach house. I didn’t think I would make it. The car was sputtering something awful those last few miles of running on fumes. I can’t go anywhere now. I tried calling Becky, but she didn’t answer. I even tried calling the Doc, but it kept ringing there too. This is all his fault, Bob. First the recommendation to even take this damned trip, then there’s the fucking hallucinogens. I think this was all a trap. All a part of his sick fucking experiment. I bet he’s watching me now. This house still has power and cable and internet, but the closest town apparently closed its fucking doors, what, a hundred years ago!? If I ever get out of here, I’ll put good old Doctor Sam through a few experiments of my own. That’ll teach him to fuck with people. Christ. What the fuck am I going to do, Bob? Shit. I hear something outside. I hope it’s just the waves playing tricks again. I’ve got to check it out.

Jesus fucking Christ! It was a kid, Bob! A fucking kid! Not one of the ones from before. He wasn’t scary and demented, but he was hurt. Christ! He was crawling out of the woods, like, dragging himself across the ground. I was scared, you know? I thought it was one of the little demon seed bastards again. I ran to him with my trusty fire poker held high. I was ready to just swing it into his skull, but he just flipped his body over and looked up at me. His feet! Jesus Christ! Someone had cut off his fucking feet! I dropped the poker and got down on all fours. He was crying and wailing in pain. I tried to pick him up, but he screamed when I attempted to wrap my arms around his little body. His shirt was covered in blood. I didn’t notice it at first because of the feet. Christ! The lack of fucking feet. The twin blood trails from where he dragged himself. Jesus! I lifted his shirt up and had to fight to stop myself from puking all over the poor kid. His body was all cut up. Intestines were hanging out and his chest had been spread open. I tried to help him, I swear to Christ I did, but I actually saw his heart make it’s final beats. I watched it stop! Who the fuck would do something like that!? I brought him inside. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t leave him out there. I know him, Bob. I know his face! I can’t remember where I know him from, though. I tried to call the police, but nothing. Jesus Christ! I can’t stay here. I have to get the fuck away from this place!

He’s gone. I took a shower to try to calm down and clean the blood off. I came back downstairs and nobody was there, like, no body. No blood from where I carried him in. It was dripping everywhere when I brought him in. I still see it on my hands, though. I see it dripping on the floor from my fingertips, but the drops don’t stay on the ground. It’s almost like it just sinks right through without leaving a mark. I see it covering my fingers and dripping down my pencil while I write this, but it doesn’t stain your pages. I went outside, and even the blood trails from the kids ankle stumps are gone from the tree line. I’m losing it, Bob. I’m never getting out of here. I know that now.

Day 7

I’m not getting out of bed today. No use. No reason. I think I’ll just stay here for now.

Day 8

I’m going numb, Bob. Emotions are drained. Mind is slipping. All six of them came in this time. The boy from the woods was there. He was the last one who came through my door. They already had me tied down before he walked in. He still didn’t look evil or sinister. He just watched. He just stood there with his arms crossed and looked on while they cut me apart. His expression seemed no different than if he was watching Curious George. The masks were gone now. Just cute little kid faces, smiling down at me like they were playing a board game or drawing funny little pictures. They didn’t look hateful or angry or anything, you know? Just looked like children having fun. The same chubby kid bit my fingers and toes off. He looked no more harmless than if he’d just engulfed a whole jar of strawberry jam, and had it smeared all over his face. The cute little blonde girl scalped me. Carved her box cutter all the way around my head and just pulled the skin off like it was a wig on one of her dolls. The girl with the brown hair, tied into pigtails, clipped off my nose and ears with some hedge trimmers. She tossed them to the fat kid like she was rewarding her puppy for shitting in the yard instead of the living room. The two other boys, a shaggy haired blonde kid, and one with a buzz cut just cut my shirt off with some scissors and splayed it open. They smiled at me. It was a genuine sort of smile, you know? It was friendly, in a strange sort of way. When they turned their heads back at each other, they dug their fingernails into my skin. It was like one of those zombie movies, where the undead ram their fingers into the victims stomach and just pull it open like a trash bag. The kids grabbed at my intestines and organs and pulled them out one by one. They tossed them over their shoulders, and they landed on the floor with a splat. All of this was going on at once, Bob. I was scalped, had my nose and ears severed, my fingers and toes chewed off and my insides pulled apart all within minutes. I can’t even describe the pain. I had no idea such pain could even exist! I always assumed shock would kick in, and block out the nerve endings. Block it from making its way back to the brain, or something. I felt everything, Bob. Every bite. Every tear. Every cut. All of it. I felt the life drain out of me, and the darkness started to surround me. I was actually glad! I just wanted it to end. No sooner did the lights go out, than I found myself laying there again. Not a mark on me. It happened, Bob. I swear to God it did. I’m leaving here today. I’ll keep walking until I can’t stand. I won’t stay here again.

Day 9

I walked all day and most of the night. I ate some of the sandwiches I made for the trip, and slept on the ground. I slept for maybe four hours, but when I woke up, I started walking again. This entry may be titled ‘Day 9’, but I think it may encompass a few more than just the one day. I already made it through the crumbled town, though there’s far less of it remaining now than the last time I passed through it. I think I may be approaching the highway soon. I hear the rumbling of speeding vehicles in the distance. Maybe I can hitch a ride from someone, or that’s what I’m hoping for at least. I probably don’t look like the most inviting hitchhiker at this point, but perhaps some kind hearted driver will offer me an olive branch. This will hopefully be my last stop off before reaching the real world again. My feet are throbbing, my back hurts like hell and my supply of sandwiches is running low. My head feels clearer now, and the idea of seeing civilization makes my heart soar quite a bit. Whatever happens from here on out, I’ll never go to the beach again. That’s a damn fact. I think I’m going to break up with Becky, too. She wants kids, I think. I didn’t plan to ever be a father before, and I sure as shit don’t want children now. Maybe this whole thing was just some sort of psychological warfare my own brain waged on me to make me realize that once and for all. One thing is for sure. I am not built for solitude. I can’t say I care for people, in general, but I realize now that I at least like to know they’re around. Not far to go now.

Day 10-12ish

I made it home, Bob! I never thought I’d see my shitty apartment again. I sat in the bathtub for close to two hours when I got here. Just dropped my shit on the floor and headed straight to the bathroom. I would have showered, but I could barely stand. I walked down the breakdown lane of the highway for three hours before I could convince someone to offer a ride to my filthy ass. I know I smelled like shit and looked worse than a mangy dog when the truck pulled over to the side of the road. I had nothing left, but just the pure joy of seeing my long walk come to an end gave me a second wind enough to sprint to the passenger door of the big rig. The driver was a really cool old guy, and he didn’t even say a word about the way I looked when I hopped in. He looked like he was likely some kind of weekend biker, or something. Long grey beard, bandanna tied around his ponytailed, white hair. He even wore one of those leather Harley vests. He wasn’t planning to drive into the city, but he said he’d get me close. By the time we reached the city limits, he decided to just go ahead and take me the rest of the way. Cool as hell old guy, I tell you. I offered him a hundred dollar bill for his trouble, but he just waved it off and told me to just pay it forward someday. I definitely have a new outlook on people, in general. I’d probably still be walking that highway if he hadn’t come along. I think I’m going to keep you around, Bob. You may be the only thing that got me through the last week. Samuel may be full of shit, but the journal was a good call. Credit where it’s due, and all that. All that being said, I’ll see you tomorrow, Bobby boy. I think I’m going to go to a bar where I can be around people for a while.

Day 13?

I don’t know why I’m still numbering the days, now that I’m home. I may just keep it up and see how high the number gets before I get to the last page. Saying that, though, I’m not entirely sure why I’m so deep into this book already. You’re pretty thick, Bob. No offense intended. My last thirteen days should, logically, only take up thirteen pages at most, but I’m clearly a good halfway into this journal. Have I noticed that before? It feels like I have, but I strangely have no urge to flip through the first pages. My head feels a little swimmy. I think I’m going to take a nap.

I quit my job, Bob. It was a dead end, shithole of a job, and I deserve way better than that place. I say I quit, but I just chose to not go in or even call them. Chicken shit way to end a meaningless career choice, I know, but what can you do? I tried to call Becky again, but she’s still not answering. Maybe she’s ending this relationship the same way I ended my job. Doesn’t matter, really. Makes things easier in the long run. I do think I’ll go see good old Doctor Sam today. I’ve got a few things I’d like to say to him. I’m not trying to get arrested, so I’ll keep it civil and all, but fuck that guy! Alright. Later, Bob. Actually, I think I’ll take you with me. I want to be able to show him what he put me through. I wonder if Mrs. Jacobs moved out. I haven’t heard her shitty little brat running back and forth since I got home. I hear someone up there walking around, but it ain’t a kid. Maybe things are looking up for me.

Jesus Christ! I saw them, Bob! All six of the little bastards and bitches. I was in the taxi, on the way to Samuel’s office, and they were just playing on the side of the road! I told the cabbie to pull over and let me out. Tossed him a twenty and ran after them. Did they follow me here!? Maybe they work for the Doc? It can’t be a coincidence that I saw them so close to his office, right? As soon as I ran at them, they took off down an alley. They’re quick little shits, but I was able to keep up with them. I’ve got them cornered, I think. They ran into an abandoned warehouse or something, but I think this is the only entrance. No, I’m not going to hurt them, Bob. I just want some fucking answers. Yes, I know it’s them! You don’t think I’d recognize the brat patrol that filleted me like a fucking fish!? I could really use my fire poker right now. Fuck it. I’m going in.

No. It’s not real. This shit cannot be real. I ran in, Bob. All six of them were just standing there in the center of the room. It wasn’t a warehouse, I don’t think. There was plastic lining the walls and the floor. It’s like that clear plastic stuff the killers use in movies to help clean up the evidence and all that. It almost looked as if the walls were wooden. I could even see light shining through splits in the walls behind the tarp. They weren’t alone this time. It wasn’t just the kids anymore. Standing behind them, like a fucking ringleader, was me. How can that be, Bob? How the fuck could I be there, behind them, when I was standing in front of them!? Do I have a twin I didn’t know about or something? They all had blood dripping from their fingers. Every one of them. They just smiled at me with mouths that were way more wide than they should have been. I ran, Bob. I just ran out of there. Hauled ass as fast as I could back through the door I came in. They all laughed at me when I turned tail, every one of them. Even me! That one kid, though. The one that was bleeding in the trees. The one that just stood and watched while the others tore me apart. I know who he is now. He’s the Jacobs boy. The brat from upstairs. I’m going to go knock on their door. I don’t think they live there anymore, but maybe whoever is in that room could know where they went. The only thing that makes any sort of sense is that all of this is in my head. Everything seems to lead back to that one kid. This is just a riddle that I need to solve, and I’ll bet my money on him having the answers.

It was a man. An older guy, maybe I’m his fifties. He walked with a cane and he looked terrified when he saw my face at the door. He actually screamed and just slammed the door back in my face! I pounded on the damn thing and called out that I needed to talk to him about the folks who used to live there. He just yelled back, “Not again! Never again!” And sounded like he had burst into wailing sobs. I think I remember something. I feel cold, all of a sudden. My hands are covered in blood. It’s all over them. I washed them, but they won’t get clean. I think I did something, Bob. Christ, what the hell have I done? I won’t go back up there again. It’s late. I’m going to get some sleep.

Day 14

I’m going to see Doctor Samuel. I won’t get distracted from my mission this time. I’m starting to remember things, Bob. It’s still fuzzy, but I think I know what I’ve done. The blood is still on my hands, but it’s not dripping any more. It just stained my skin. My ruby red hands glaring up at me with their accusing stare. Part of me wants to stall, you know? I know I have to go see Samuel, but I fear I know what will happen when I do. Deja Vu, perhaps. There’s something unsettlingly familiar about all of this, but it’s time to raise the veil.

I know everything now, Bob. I think this may be the last time we talk, at least with this much clarity. I went to Samuel’s office, but it wasn’t an office anymore. It’s a house. A pleasant little house on the beach. It’s not just the house now, though. There’s a barn out by the treeline. A small wooden barn with plastic lining the inside. That’s where I killed them, Bob. All five kids. I killed adults too, mind you. Some were just for the purpose of keeping my secrets, though. I never took any pleasure in killing adults. Well, most of the time, anyway. They fight back, you see. They’re not as easy, and I didn’t feel as powerful when I tried to hold them down. It started when I was still a child myself, you know? I convinced everyone that my father was self defense, but I just didn’t like the way he talked to me that day. Sure, they put me in therapy and I talked for hours and days about how he beat me and berated me and I finally had enough. He never did those things, though. He did love me, I think. I think he knew something wasn’t quite right with me, but he tried his best after my mother died. She was technically my first, but I didn’t exactly get the blood on my hands for that one. I just pinched the tube that was feeding oxygen into her cancerous lungs for a few moments. She wasn’t long for this world, and I helped her, I think. Dad never suspected that one, but it broke him, regardless. He was suffering, and I’m sure he didn’t mean to talk down to me that day, but the damage was done. I almost regretted it, at first. The way he looked at me while he was choking on his own blood stays with me to this day. He appeared genuinely surprised. Even when I forgot the circumstances, I still saw that. I guess, technically, Buddy was the first time I got blood on my hands. His barking kept me awake one night too many, and I had just had enough. I carved him up a good bit. I made sure to clean the knife before I put it back in the kitchen. I don’t think dad ever suspected me of that one, either.

Molly was the first kid I killed. She was the same age as me, at the time. She mocked me in front of everyone, and they laughed at me for weeks because of it. I didn’t kill her until the whole thing was forgotten, though. I was smart enough to point the finger away from me. When they saw what was left of her, they did not suspect that another child could have done something so brutal. Randy came next, he was another one who made fun of me. I cut him up worse than Molly. They thought an animal got to him. Tim and Julia didn’t happen until I was in college. I didn’t have any good reason for those two. I guess I just didn’t like how they looked at me while I was walking past the playground. Vincent was a little after my thirty-first birthday. I’d gone a long time in between feeding my impulses, and he just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. Becky was the first adult I had killed since my father, well, aside from a couple of people who saw things they weren’t supposed to. Those were necessity and not pleasure, so I don’t count them. I didn’t mean to hurt her, Bob. She got pregnant, and I had to remove my seed from her. If she’d confessed her pregnancy to me earlier, it wouldn’t have caused her so much damage, I think. She was four months along when she finally admitted it to me. I didn’t mean to hurt her. Not really. Gerald was easy. I think I just did him for pure fun. He was an awful and condescending prick. Another case of the wrong place for him and the right time for me, even if it was his own house. I was just driving by when I saw him sitting out on his rear deck in his hot tub. I didn’t even know he lived there, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity. It was late and most of the city was asleep. I was the only car on the road, so I didn’t even try to hide what I was doing. I pulled over and snuck up onto his deck. Drowned him in his own jacuzzi.
Finally Jimmy Jacobs, who kept pounding across the ceiling of my apartment, no matter how much I protested against it. He was homeschooled and was rarely away from the apartment, so I had to lure his mother away for enough time to take care of him. I paid a bum forty bucks to pretend to be a cop. He told her that her sister had been arrested and she would have to bail her out. She apparently wasn’t the smartest of people, but she ran out of the building leaving Jimmy home alone. Had I made quicker work of him, she would have been none the wiser when she got home, but I wanted to make an example of what he’d put me through. I tied him down and cut his feet off with a hacksaw. How was I to know that his mother had run out without her wallet? I was enjoying my work so much that I didn’t even notice her coming in. She screamed and I turned around just in time to receive the entire magazine worth of ammo she fired into me.

That’s when I met Doctor Samuel, or as I have come to know him as, Samael, the accuser. I still don’t fully understand the beach house. The barn I did my work in was abandoned and hidden by the forest. Perhaps the beach is just because I always dreamed of living there. Maybe it’s just that one final insult, you know? Seeing my dream turn sour. I understand, now, why I’m so deep into your guts, Bob. Hell is in repetition. It keeps going back and back and back again. Whenever I find the truth of my horrific deeds, I go back to the beginning. Repetition. Over and over. A never ending cycle. I deserve this, Bob. I’m a monster. I’m well aware of that. Even before I knew who the children were, I wanted to kill them. Even before they started cutting on me, I wanted to cut them first. Maybe if it ever gets to the point that I don’t want to feel their blood spraying across my face and leaking between my fingers, maybe then I’ll be free. Will I though? Repetition, Bob. I will be going now, my only friend. I fear I will see you soon. Do I always call you Bob, I wonder.

Day 1

Alright, so this is day one of solitude for me. My psychiatrist recommended I get away from the world to attempt to get my shit together. I briefly considered going to a cabin in the woods, but I’ve seen entirely too many horror movies to fall into that trap, so I opted for a pleasant little secluded beach house. I still don’t completely believe this is going to do anything for me, but I think I could get used to this. It really is quite beautiful here.

 

Credit : William Rayne

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