I took a shower today. I couldn't keep the shower curtain closed. Every time I closed my eyes I thought I heard something. I could hear something. Some kind of mechanical crackle, almost a chuckling sound. I didn't wash my hair because I'd have had to close my eyes to do that.
On the wall I could see my shadow. And then I'd see another shadow like there was someone there with me, but I'd turn around and the room would be empty. I'm still not sure if I was alone or not.
I haven't slept. I can't stand being in the darkness or closing my eyes. I always know there's something there.
I've been seeing him.
Never clearly. At the edge of my sight, a glimpse in the mirror, in between blinks. Sometimes I'll see him just as he takes a step out of sight, or his hand will be up as if he were about to wave.
He's a fucking monster. Some kind of abomination, I don't know. Dad won't listen to me. Keeps saying I need new medication.
I don't need pills, I need a crucifix. Or my gun back.
And someone else has this password, apparently. I don't know how they found that burned letter or why they put it up here, but it is in my handwriting. I vaguely remember writing it. I definitely remember going to that building with my mother.
I don't like the other shit they're putting up, either.
Coffee makes me nervous, so I've been drinking a lot of tea. The other day I tripped leaving the kitchen and my mug smashed on the floor. The gunk from the bottom of the cup formed this huge mucky puddle, so I went to get paper towels. When I came back to it a second later, there were markings in it.
I would've assumed my cat had just stepped in it, if the cat wasn't still missing. Or even still a cat anymore.
Kind of went through my Waite House journal with Alex an hour ago. I found something carved into the back of it that I don't think Alex noticed. It makes me want to stop trying to figure out what happened on the island.
Anyway, I gave Alex the comp book and told him to do whatever he wants with it. I figure he'll either burn it or scan the pages.