Grimace rictus grin

Grimace rictus
rictus grin
I'll smile the smile of the dead
one more shot of morphine
no painkillers after
only the grin and the paintings I drew
I drew all over the walls pretty happy pictures because I'm smiling
keeping him out
tentacles reaching in at the corners
but they'll stay away

running on empty
rictus gaping grin of the mouth as of birds. birds?
grimace a facial expression, often ugly or contorted, used to express pain pain?I
rictus grimace grimace rictus
 my muscles hurt and I just want it all to end
but I want to go back home and grab a drink
think of home
think of bed
and smile

la la la little black sheep hmmm


shut up dad

There's no food left in here

He told us there would be food for years, but that only meant we'd be here for years. The world outside is grey and dead and the trees are whispering. Can you hear it? The lights are going out already, trying to use less power, but in every corner the little red blinking lights. Eyes are watching me. And the faceless man-- did I tell you about him? I could have been safe, I could have survived. But he saw the faceless man, not just dad, and that pulled me in. On the edge of an abyss

you you you and the other people working for him, was this supposed to be some sort of protracted overly complicated vengeance? Were you trying to save yourselves?

I'm going to die here and it's completely meaningless. Is it even worth trying to stay away? Trying to smile?

But the smile keeps the tall man away and i'd rather burn to death than die at his hands to die starving with a grin on my face
so be happy for a few days more



There were some questions asked in that last post. I can't answer them very well. My head is shot, my brain is fucked up. My memory doesn't work properly. There are images that my mind just slides away from. Now my hands shake, my body is unsteady, and I can't focus. Thoughts don't work, don't focus. The world hurts.

They took us somewhere, you know who. Dragged us out. We were tested for various things. We were supposed to be able to survive for a longer length of time in the area. It takes your mind, crawls out and in. Folds and unfolds. We started dying. We were all dead. I don't know where we are. I don't like to look outside. The trees bleed, and there is pus seeping out of the earth, and eyes amongst the branches. Sometimes there is singing.

He won't die. My 'parent'. Doesn't deserve the title. But he won't, he's too much of a bastard to. All of us who were taken to this place had significant others who had seen the tall man. None of us had seen him ourselves. We were all happy, content.

The tall man, the gentleman, he will kill without caring. But he's not supposed to get in here. Amy said I could keep him out. Keep an eye on the corners. But sometimes I think I see him, but he's not there. He couldn't be there.

I didn't save anyone else. They're all outside.


The Knife

She was right next to me, and everyone else was gone, and she could have survived. She was strong, she could have survived. I was losing it all trying to scrub Rob off the walls, and I could see him out the window and he wanted me to go and play. The blood was everywhere, they were all dead, and Amy was surviving. She could have survived.  But she saw the others, they were outside, they were dead, tapping on the window, but they were dead. I couldn't handle it. I couldn't.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

I mean, the knife was in my hand, I was going to bleed myself out, throw myself into the fire, I was going to make sure there was nothing left, I was going to die, I needed to die, I deserved to die, because I didn't save them, I'm a doctor, I didn't save any of them and I was supposed to but they were bleeding they were bleeding everywhere and nineteen year olds aren't supposed to be dead thirty year olds aren't supposed to be dead. Not supposed to die far from home, far from families, far from lovers, far from parents and siblings and sons and daughters. Not supposed to die empty and mad. And I had the knife to my hand and she took my hand and she said she said I had to kill her

no she didn't I'm just a murderer

the knife was in my hand

She put the knife against her neck and told me to watch the corners

I put the knife against her neck, but she asked me to, she said she wanted to die, but she couldn't kill herself. She said she wanted me to live.

No yes

She let me put the knife and I felt her blood and I burned her body but I saved her because the body was burned and she couldn't become like what happened to the others. See the tall man, he takes their bodies and he captures them and they scream forever. She's saved, she's not like the ones outside, she doesn't want me to die and go with them so I can't die, because Amy is safe. dead, dead and safe.

put the knife against her chest she bled I have to clean it all up have to clean the walls mr thin is coming to tea and he's so fussy so clean so surgical help me


Tell us about Amy.

Go on.

Tell us about the knife.



I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm happy and no I'm really not it's like the walls are always closing in I shot myself up with a painkiller. I tried to sort out my arm but the medical equipment here is covered in the blood of Ben and clogged up with his rotting skin and his crushed bones, almost completely unusable almost completely unusable. It's my left arm, and it's the bone, because it broke through the skin, and I had to try and set it back into place and I'm fucking terrified because if this gets infected I'm dead, I'd have to try and cut off my own arm or something and it'd kill me, the shock should have killed me anyway broken pretty badly. I set it back in and tried to stitch it up though. It's difficult trying to set your own bones, it's almost completely impossible and I can't remember how to care for bones when the skin is pierced properly, my brain is rotting in my skull, I can feel it, my head caving in though. I'm trying to stay happy, trying to keep up the facade, it's why I've got to make the negative stuff as hidden as possible, so I can't see it when I look at the blog, but it's not working, just a cry for help and I'm screaming and there's nobody around anywhere, unblinking eyes watching and whispering against me, cold words on a screen and that's all ignore m the guy who has been posting on here. It seems like he's got access to the blog so how the hell could you do this to your own child? I'm sure he'll take opportunities to fuck me over more fuck you fuck you fuck you "communicate" further.

As to why I fell down the stairs, I can't remember. I can't remember.

I can't remember I can' remember I can't remmember I can't i can't i can

I don't want to it makes everything just a hallucination he wasn't there. The tall man wasn't at the top of the stairs. I'm happy. If being happy doesn't keep him away I'm dead. Smiling. I'm dead.



Our Protagonist is currently bleeding at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Protagonist seems surprised by this.

If Protagonist stops the bleeding, you may get a post in the next few days, as well as a bit more explanation.

Protagonist hasn't quite figured out that we monitor all computer activity constantly. Protagonist is pretty dim.


Down the Stairs

When I was nine, I woke up in the middle of the night. Maybe I had a nightmare or something. I don't remember now. But the monster was there.

No, not him. My-- well.

He said he and mom were going out for a walk in the woods, and I should think hard about the guy with no face and hope he would come and take me away. For a while I wanted the man with no face to take me away because I was scared. I was a little kid. What else do you do? You think about being kidnapped. Running away. Getting away. I did. Fuck him, right.

That's what you spend all your childhood doing, then you grow up, and life moves on. Life was supposed to move on. And I never saw the man without the face when I was a kid, never, not even when my dad told me to. I'd pretend to because he wanted it, but I never did. Why am I here? Why won't he leave me alone?

He said they were going for a walk in the woods, and she never came back. I wonder if that's what they'll say about me? Went to sleep, and never came back.


And then

Sorry about that last post. It wasn't-- I didn't mean to.

I'm good. I'm well. Happy.

Smiling. Not looking outside. Maybe do something on rainbows or something next, so there's more colour. Haven't seen any other colours than red and black and white and grey for a while. My eyes are starting to hurt.

I'm happy. Have I said that yet? Oh, I have.

I want to go home.

Listening to music, really loud, all upbeat. Happy. Smiling. What do you do to stay happy? What do you do to stay happy when you've got nothing left?