The Dark Somnium - I Spent 14 Days in Complete Isolation

Episode Date: January 14, 2023

Make sure to check out the original story and support the authorI Spent 14 Days in Complete Isolation: https://www.creepypasta.com/isolation-2/--- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/darksomnium/message Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Day one. All right, this is day one of seclusion for me. My therapist recommended that I get away for at least a week to try and get myself 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 boatload 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 30 or so miles from here. Of course, that does mean I'll have to take a drive if I need anything, but I stocked up when I passed through there on my way here. I feel like Dr. 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 Wi-Fi 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 Wi-Fi out there, only cable. Still, I can't say I know too much about that sort of thing, and I'm sure 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 two. I didn't accomplish much on the first day, though I'm not entirely sure what I was supposed to achieve to tell you the truth. It was pretty late when I got here yesterday, and I was pretty much beef 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 stuff. I was buzzing pretty good when I laid down, so it could have just been my swimming head in the waves brushing the shore outside. 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 sound, 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 out. It could also be that my half-sleeping mind took me back to my apartment in the city, where the brat of a kid upstairs is always hammering his feet across the ceiling. I swear it sounded like he was 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 person. building, to be honest. Like I told you yesterday, I'm not exactly poor. I could certainly afford

something better. I wonder where I put my keys. I thought I may have left them on the dresser at home, but I would have made it hard to drive here. I did drive here, right? Why am I asking you? You're not going to know where I put my keys. I just looked outside. 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 me 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 the line behind me enjoyed it. it, at least. Speaking of drugs, I wonder if I could score any weed out here.

Maybe I'll take a trip to town later. Though my sleep had plenty of odd interruptions, I still rested well. I actually slept in for the first time and I don't know how long. Having to be at work 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 type, and that cubicle practically suffocates me every 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 as of late. Well, him and my shitbag of a dad. If you can even call him that. My apologies, you didn't ask to hear my life story and all this complaining. We're here to rest and relax, and that's just what we're going to do. I do need to look for a new job, though. That being said, I don't even need to work, do I?

Why do I put up with that prick 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. I think I'm going to go for a walk, maybe jump in the water for a minute. Oh, Christ, the water is cold. I jumped in for like a minute and rushed back out. It's almost busted my leg on the sand, too.

Well, not that the sand could really bust anything, I suppose. The doctor told me I had a tendency to overreact to little things, but wet sand can really hurt. 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 nice, and I stayed in there until my fingers were all wrinkly and pruny. 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 a hot tub experience. one's trusty beverage. I don't know why, but that last line made me laugh a little. You probably think I'm crazy, don't you, journal? But just for that, I'll leave you inside. No hot tub for you, buddy boy. Hmm, I don't know what I was thinking. There's no hot tub out there.

Must be seeing things. I still sat outside and enjoyed the night air, though. There's a boat way out in 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 job and 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 and all, but you're pretty thick.

I bet we still have a few good years left together. But I need to give you a name, I think. I can't keep calling you journal. That would be like naming my kid. Well, a kid, though. I don't think I want children. I think I'd be a pretty bad 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 bled for like three days. He was stubborn, that's for damn sure. I didn't know there would be a full bar here, so I bought a six-pack of beer at the liquor

store when I drove through the 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. A damn thing landed right on its base. It shattered only on the bottom, which looked cool, to be honest. I've never seen that happen before. I 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 three. Bob, that's what I'm going to call you. Do you like it? It's a great name because you can flip it up or down and turn it all around and it still spells Bob. I didn't sleep at all 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 freaks pounded on the bedroom door. I jumped out of bed, through the door open, but they were gone. I went around, turned on every single light in the house. I even went outside and ran around with a flashlight for like an hour. I think someone's messing 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 wouldn't see them. Before I go to sleep tonight, oh, you bet your ass, I'm going to check every door and window. There's an inherent eerie in kids' laughter, you know? I think that's why they always have some sort of creepy ghost kid in horror movies. I mean, why anyone would want to have children? I'll never know. You have to be freaked out all the time hearing that stuff.

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? What do I keep asking you questions? Great, and I just asked another one. Well, if you actually answer me, Bob, we're both way more screwed 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. Got on my nerves, something serious. He was a big mutt too, had a deep, I'll mess 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'm pretty scarred, though.

I wouldn't be in therapy and loaded up on drugs if I wasn't. At least he tried, I suppose. Maybe he wasn't such a bad father after all. I think I'm going to go for a drive, Bob. You want to come along? Well, actually don't answer that. You stay right here. I'll be back later.

I don't realize what a hovel that town was when I passed through it 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 a run down as it looks now. It looks like the city may have a population of maybe a couple hundred, and half the buildings have boarded up doors and windows. Maybe they got hit with a hurricane sometime back 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. And the guy didn't even thank me. It's strange to see a place so dilapidated and 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 going to go take a shower now. I feel gross.

Well, didn't get much of a chance to enjoy my shower. Some guy came pounding on the door when I was right in the middle of lathering my hair. I wrapped a towel around myself, ran downstairs, ready to beat someone's ass if it wasn't something important. Turns out it was the guy who actually owns the house. Yeah, 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 in, which felt kind of strange, asking the owner if you'd like to come into his own house.

He asked me if I was enjoying this day 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 already 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 stuff. 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 come live. out the place so he can mess with me more efficiently. Maybe I should have brought a gun. I think I'm going to stay awake tonight. It's been getting dark outside and I keep hearing things. I could have sworn I saw something out of the corner of my eye a little while ago, but it

was just the light reflecting on the TV. I'm not sure where the light was coming from, but it could have just been the sunset causing light to just pan 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? 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 that I'd kill them, but he just laughed harder. What are they playing at? Someone's messing with me, I swear to God. The boat was closer, too. It's maybe, I don't know, like 40 or 50 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 I even make those anymore? Until I got distracted by the laughing again.

It sounded like they were running through the sand right behind me, too. I turned around, and of course, There was nothing, but when I looked back at the water, the boat just looks like a yacht again. I'm starting to think that the medicine is messing with my head more and more. Doctor told me it was supposed to stop me from seeing things, but it sure as hell isn't doing the trick. I'm going to call him tomorrow. The solitude thing ain't working out, not for me anyway. I'm definitely not sleeping tonight. I might catch these guys and make them sorry for messing with the wrong person.

I'll get back to you tomorrow, Bob. They need to think I'm sleeping, so I can't talk to you anymore tonight. Day four. I saw them, Bob. I 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 or something.

They were all wearing Halloween masks, but they still laughed and giggled like stupid little kids. They screamed like kids, too. or at least the one I clipped did. I called the police and they're on their way 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 pled myself to sell the story. Sure, they'll try to make some excuse 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 to. 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. He messed with the wrong guy. Oh, there's the blue lights now. Okay, I'll be back, Bob.

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 is serious, and I'm being harassed. As I predicted, they claimed they couldn't see the blood on the wall. And 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 hung a tarp up or covered the wall with a thin strip

of cardboard or something like that. That's probably it. They set me up. That's why the kid kept running, because he wasn't hurt in the first place. Damn! I know I made contact with something, though. Did I hit the wall? No, no, no, I didn't hit the wall.

I just checked it. There's not even a mark. Maybe the fake blood splatter wall was metal. It didn't feel like I hit metal, but I had a lot of adrenaline pumping too. Maybe it's just a lack of sleep or something. Could I have inadvertently fallen asleep and dreamed it all? It felt so real. I need to call Samuel.

These meds are messing with my head. Maybe I don't really have any mental conditions and he's performing some sort of sick experiment on me, like some sort of messed up social experiment for one of a stupid, of 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. I bet it doesn't even look like the pill I'm supposed to be taking.

Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, I'm on to you, Dr. Sam. They're supposed to be pink. The pills are supposed to be pink, and these ones are green. I knew it. I knew I wasn't crazy. I flushed every one. One of those pills down the toilet and I called my lying doctor.

Of course, he claimed that I'm having some sort of episode or reaction to the pills. He even said he's calling someone else in. But I'll be damned if I trust a word he says now. I told him I was on to him and he told me to calm down and come home immediately or have someone come pick me up. Like I know anyone who drive all this way to come get me. Who the hell does he think I am? Oh yeah, I'm going home all right.

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. The 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. The bastard attacked me and I defended myself. He was 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 hell did he expect when he was the one that tried to hurt me? I was still a kid when he tried pushing me around, and I'm a grown-ass man now. What does my doctor expect to happen now? He's just trying to save his own ass. I tell you, Bob, you better never try pushing me around, 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... I'm not taking the medicine, maybe my head will clear up. I think I'm going for a drive, though. No way I'm going back to Tetanistown, 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 Samuel's ass either. I suppose intellectuals like him have to experiment on people if they want to make 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 game. gas station. Luckily, my little Honda is economical, but I may have to visit that little town that time forgot if I want to get gas anytime soon. Maybe I should just 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. Oh, 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 me. I'll call her tomorrow, no reason to stress or anything like that. Honestly, I'm pretty exhausted. It's been a rough couple of days, Bob. I think I'll turn in early tonight. We'll see you tomorrow, bud. Day five.

They cut me. They cut me deep, Bob. They're real. It's not the drugs. God, 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 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 what? eight or nine years old at most? How could the little bastard's jaw be so strong? There were three of them in the room, and I heard more of them laughing outside the door. Jesus Christ, I can't believe this is really happening. He just got biting off my fingers while the other two were just carving into my chest and stomach with kitchen knives.

They didn't even realize I was slipping loose when all the blood that was spilling out of me made it so easy for my right hand to get free. Before the ones cutting me knew what happened. I jammed my fingers into the chubby little biter's eyes. He started wiggling and flailing around while chunks of my middle finger were spewing out of his mouth. I didn't quit digging in his sockets until he couldn't move anymore. I got them deep in his little brainpan and the lights were out for that little evil 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. Oh, I caught those little surgeons and I showed them how a real surgeon operates. There's bits of them all the way down the hall, and I'm going to 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 mess with me. I need to get to the hospital. It's a good thing I'm right-handed. I still have the ring and pinky finger left, though.

Good thing the little cannibals didn't start with the most useless fingers on my hand. I'm sorry, Bob, my friend, Bobby Boy, it's shock, I think. I think I'm in shock, Bob. I called 911, called an ambulance, blood loss. Lots of blood. So much blood loss. I don't know how much. I don't know if it's just mine.

Bloods. Blood everywhere. Bloody walls. Bloody floor. Bloody me. Bloody Bob. Sticky blood. Blood all over.

I think... I think I'm gonna pass out till the ambulance game. Day six. It all 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, 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 hall. My left hand is fully fingered. It just had to have been a dream, but I know 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 brothers, you know. Maybe it was a spill or something toxic in the water supply, but it's powerful stuff. I'm packing my stuff 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 hell need one now. I'm going to stash you in my luggage until I get back home, Bob. I'll 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 any life 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 strove 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 to call Becky. She'd I haven't tried to call the doc, but it kept ringing there too. This is all his fault, Bob. First, the recommendations to even take this damn trip, and then there was the hallucinogens. I think this was all a trap, all part of his sick experiment. I bet he's watching me now. The house still has power and cable and internet, but the closest town apparently closed its

doors, what, a hundred years ago? If I ever get out of here, I'll put good old Dr. Sam through a few experiments of my own. What am I going to do, Bob? Um, uh, I hear something outside. I hope it's just the waves playing tricks again. I've got to check it out. Jesus Christ, it was a kid.

Bob, it was a kid. Not one of the ones from before. He wasn't scary and demented, but he was hurt. Christ, he was crawling out in the woods, like, like dragging himself across the ground. I was scared, you know? I thought it was one of the little demons. 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, someone had cut his feet off. 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 at first because of his feet. 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. His 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 its final beats. I watched it stop.

Who 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.

I can't stay here. I have to get 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. 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. ground. It's almost like it sinks right through without leaving a mark. I see it covering my fingertips and dripping down my pencil while I write this, but it doesn't stay in your pages. I went outside, and even the blood trails from the kid's ankle stumps were gone from the tree line. I'm losing it, Bob. I'm never getting out of here. I know that now.

Day seven. I'm not getting out of bed today. No use. No reason. I think I'll just stay here 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 it smeared all over his face. The little blonde girl scalped me. carved her box cutter all around my head and just pulled the skin off like it was a wig of one of her dolls. The girl with brown hair, tied into pigtails, clipped off my nose and ears with some head trimmers. She tossed them to the fat kid like she was rewarding her puppy.

The two other boys, a shaggy-haired blonde kid, and one with a buzz cut, just cut my shirt off with some scissors and spayed 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 victim's stomach and just pull it open like a trash bag.

The kids grabbed 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 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 and 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 nine. 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. The sentry may be titled Day 9, but I think it may encompass a few more than just one day. I already made it through the crumbled town, though there's far less of it remaining now than the last time I pass 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 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 back to that beach again. That's a 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'm sure I don't want children now. Maybe this 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'm 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 through 12-ish. I made it home, Bob. I never thought I'd see this shitty apartment again. I sat in the bathtub for close to two hours when I got here, just dropped my stuff 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 me a ride

and looked worse than a mangy dog when the truck pulled over to the side of the road. I had nothing left, but 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 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 gray beard, bandana 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. He's a really cool guy, I'll tell you. I offered him a $100 bill for his trouble, but he just waved it off and told me just to pay it forward someday. I definitely have a new outlook on people in general. I'd probably still be walking the 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 last week. Samuel may be full of it, but the journal was a good idea. Credit where credits do and all that. That being said, I'll see you tomorrow, Bobby Boy. I think I'm going to the 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 13 days should logically only take up 13 pages at most, but I'm clearly a good halfway into this journal. If 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 swimming.

I think I'm going to take a nap. I quit my job, Bob. It was a dead end job and I deserve better than that place. I say I quit, but I just chose not to go in or even call them. Not a great 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. It doesn't matter, really.

Makes things easier in the long run. I do think I'll go see old Dr. 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 screw that guy. All right, later, Bob. Well, 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 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 those little bastards. 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 cabby to pull over and let me out, toss them a 20, and ran after them. Did they follow me here?

Maybe they work for the doctorate. It can't be a coincidence that I saw them so close to the office, right? As soon as I ran at them, they took off down an alley. They're pretty quick, 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 this is the only entrance. No. No, I'm not going to hurt them, Bob.

I just want some answers. Yes, I know it's them. You don't think I'd recognize the brat patrol that filleted me like a fish? I could really use my fire poker right now. Forget it. I'm going in. No, no, it's not real. This can't be real.

I ran in, Bob. All six of them were standing there in the center of the room. It wasn't a warehouse, I don't think. There was plastic lining on the walls and the floor. It's like that clear plastic stuff killers use in the movies to help them clean up evidence and all that. It almost looked like the walls were wooden. I could even see light shining through the 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 ringleader, was me. How can that be, Bob? How could I be there behind them when I was standing right 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 ran out of there and ran 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 Jacob's boy, the brat from upstairs. I'm going to knock on their door. I don't think they live there anymore, but maybe whoever is in that room now could know

where they went. The only thing that makes any sort of sense was that this was all in my head. everything seemed to lead back to that one kid. This is just a riddle that I need to solve, and I'll bet money on him having the answers. It was a man, an older guy, maybe in his 50s. He walked with a cane, and he looked terrified when he saw my face at the door. He actually just screamed and slammed the door back in my face. I pounded on the damn thing and called out that I needed to talk about the folks who used to live there.

He just yelled. Not again. Never again. And sounded like he had burst into wailing songs. 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 could I have 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 Dr. 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 anymore. It's 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 tree line. 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 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.

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 wrong. 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 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 31st birthday. I had 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 a 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 home. I was just driving by when I saw him sitting out in 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 that she would have to bail her out. She apparently wasn't the smartest of people, but she ran and she ran and she. 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 off his feet 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 an entire magazine worth of ammo she fired into me. That's when I met Dr. Samuel, or as a little.

I would come to know him as, Samuel 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 turns 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 me, I wanted to cut them first. Maybe if it ever gets to the point that I don't want to feel their blood sprang 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 one.

All right, this is day one of seclusion for me. My therapist recommended that I get away for at least a week to try and get myself together. He also suggested that I keep a journal of my time involved. 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 boatload 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.