I'm all grown up this time.

Breath in.


Breath out.


I was wrong. There is no escape.

Remember, those few of you who have been following me; remember what I said earlier? About leaving, and getting away? I really thought, with the whole hearted and earnest, stupid naivety of a child that I could actually do that, that I could escape from Him and slip away from His sight - Stupid, stupid. All I've succeeded in doing is amusing Him further, all I've succeeded is giving Him more of a reason to want to break me - No. I'm already broken, I think. He's already won me over, in a sort of twisted, cruel sense full of depravity - I'm not myself anymore. I don't think I ever will be.

I apologize, everyone.

It's been almost a week (five days, to be exact; because I've been counting each painstaking minute and painstaking hour) since I last posted an update to my conundrums - the last you heard from me I was on the verge of escaping, sort of. I was moving (and I still am, because this place may not be any safer than the place I'm moving to, but the fact of the matter is that this has escalated, escalated and escalated and I cannot allow myself even a moment of reprieve anymore. Why? Because it's a lie.

But you already knew that.

There's been... Something disturbing happening.
And when I say disturbing, I mean disturbing in the physical sense. Disturbing, because I'm fairly certain I'm not alone. I mean, I know I'm not - He's always there, watching and waiting.




















I just want to be alone again.

It's okay if you want out.

Finally.

It's taken me a few days to manage - attempt, actually, because I'll never manage to do something as impossible as organizing my thoughts, but that's besides the point.

It's taken me a few days to attempt to manage my thoughts. I haven't had much time between the bouts of frenzied, sporadic packing (and by packing I mean the shoving of articles of clothing and precious items into a large bag haphazardly) and the nervous, desperate search for a new domicile to actually sit down and make a half-decent update - it doesn't help that I've begun to ache and bruise in the oddest of places; all the endless, violent bursts of coughing garnering me stares of a curious but ultimately unhelpful nature. The dreams are easier (and I use the term lightly) to bear, but that doesn't stop me from waking up and sobbing into my hands when I realize I'm not dead yet, and there's a mess that needs to be cleaned up between my legs.

But...

I think I've found a place. I'm risking it, jinxing it even by writing about it in the open; but I think this is a good move. This is a very good move. I haven't seen Him all day (I haven't seen even a whisper of Him in two days, actually. I wonder if I should be worried by this, or if I should just enjoy it. Maybe He's grown tired of me? Found me trite and boring?), and aside from the knee-jerk doe-eyed look I get whenever I cross a window or leave the light, everything's... Everything's been alright.


I wonder if this is a good thing.




















We'll see.

I don't deal with stress well.

It's cold.

Much, much too cold.




















I'm too cold.

I don't know what they mean yet.

Things have been acting up, sort of.


It's a little bit complicated, and explaining it would be something I'm in no state of mind to do right now - I thought I was getting used to it - to Him. Silly rabbit, you never become accustomed to being tortured, you only develop a higher tolerance for the pain. And that's exactly what's happened, only... It doesn't seem like something that will be much help in practicality for much longer.

I need to get out. This place, it isn't safe anymore. ...But, I wonder where I could possibly run away to, somewhere where He won't find me, even for just a moment - I don't think such a place exists, but I'll entertain the notion for even just a moment, because I can say with the sort of clarity you only get after waking from a particularly long slumber that feels more like an extended unconsciousness that yes: I am losing my mind.

So I have to get out. I'll make my move in the next few days - I hate to stay here any longer, but this is something I need to plan out, something I need to be certain is my best and best and best option - I have to go, I can't stay here; it isn't safe, this place has become to corrupted -

I don't know where I'll go.




















I don't know where I'll go.

Right in and down.

Going to the doctor tomorrow.

Hopefully, I really am just going blind.




















I can't take seeing Him anymore.

And a measurable quantity of bizarre behavior.

There's something I've been forgetting to mention for the last couple of days now.

I've been coughing something violent, and... I think even I can put two and two together without the aid of a well placed look or obscure reference. I'm still disturbed by the dreams, which seem to hover between body horror and something else entirely inappropriate, and...

I don't know anymore. What am I suppose to do, what should I say?

He follows me, like He follows more people than would care to admit that, and it's begun to take it's toll on me in ways that I didn't even know I could feel stress - I'm losing sleep. I haven't slept a single restful night in almost a week now, and when I do coax my body to relax and succumb to unconsciousness He just follows me there as well, and I end up worse than I had been before closing my eyes.

I've become so restless, unfulfilled, irritable. Paranoia and disorientation are already a normal occurrence in my everyday life, but now I need to contend with the ridiculous notion that my body is going to betray me as well; or that I'll slip and words will escape and I'll infect someone else and - 


I need to talk to Parker again.
But... I wonder, will she hate me like I hate myself if I get her involved? I feel like being selfish tonight, you see.


...Sorry, Parker.

When I come home. (If I come home.)

I think I've become fractured.

There was more static pouring out of the radio today, and it left me cold and hollow inside.

Things have escalated, and I worry I might actually be going blind at some point (I still haven't been able to get a hold of a doctor, something that I'm beginning to suspect is His fault, because I've never had this kind of quiet torture and incredible bad luck when it comes to unpleasant medical procedures), though... I could just be reading too much into this again.

I went to the city yesterday with my mother (who knows nothing of what's happening, and I plan to keep it that way. No need to involve the Unbelieving), and we were forced to park the car in the lower annexes of the building I was currently residing in, because the city is a crazy, crowded place. It was pleasant enough, in the beggining, if not troublesome - that was, until the lights went bitterly dark, so much so that I couldn't even see the hand I held up in front of my face; my first natural reaction to look over my shoulder in hopes (dread) of seeing a tall shadow with slender limbs and a narrow waist - I didn't, of course, but that's what made it worse, because I know and you know He's laughing at my crippling paranoia, and the fact I was clutching onto my mother like a small child was probably the single most amusing thing He'd witnessed all day.

But moving on to less dramatically inclined things, glimpses of a suited figure outside the window several times that day notwithstanding - There have been... Dreams.

Lucid dreams, but not, because I never taught myself how to do that, and I doubt I just randomly woke up one day with the ability to do so. He was in my dreams again, but it was different - He was different. He touched me in a way that left electricity on my skin, my nerves on fire and every part of me keenly aware at the perversion that was taking place. I think... Some people call it Stockholm Syndrome. I'm fairly certain no one ever intended for it to be applied to a non-human entity I'm not even sure is capable of doing those things, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel filthy.

Depraved.

I woke with a start, and everything ached beautifully inside of me. I couldn't resist - I'd read about it before, in a Stephen King book (I believe it was called "The Regulators", lest my memory fails me); where the female protagonist was being harassed and tormented by an evil entity quite taken with her to some extent, and she had fallen to the point where touching herself was the only way she could release the pressure threatening to drive her insane on the inside.

Key difference though, I doubt the heroine was having vivid, fevered dreams about her oppressor, nor did she (to her horror and shame and utter morbid fascination) find herself whispering out His name against gritted teeth when she finished.

He's tainted me, in the worst possible way, and I just let Him.

I can't do this anymore - I'm dirty, unforgivable.
I'm sorry.