Fuck

This is Jeanette. Arm's feeling a bit better. Had to re-break it a bit.

Not a whole lot of time to talk.

There was a bouquet on Tara's roommate's bed this morning.

We haven't told her what it means but we've managed to convince her that she has a stalker and should probably stay in.

Anyway I'm going to go get some more bullets.

Gah!

Tara here.

Jeanette is the worst patient ever. Of all time.

She's looking at me and being sullen.

Yeah, we'll see how sullen she is when she does something stupid to her arm again and we have a re-break it again.

Now she's talking about how it "wasn't that bad".

Worst. Patient. Ever.

Tara, out.

Hey Guys

This is Tara. Jeanette's asleep in my bunk bed at the moment.

As I'm not quite comfortable sleeping in my roommate's bunk while she's out getting plastered, I'm failing to sleep in my computer chair. I don't think Jeanette'll mind me posting on her blog.

Well, scratch that, she'll definitely mind, but forgiveness is easier than permission. Also there are some thing Miss Stoic hasn't told you that I think you should know.

When she got here, she was running a pretty high fever. I think something in her arm is infected. She refuses to go to a hospital, though. I might be able to get her some treatment on the down-low through the student network, but even if that does work, there's a chance she's pretty seriously ill, not to mention injured.

I'd say I'm not sure how she's been walking and stabbing and typing lucidly the past few days, but this is Jeanette I'm talking about. Basically, everything she's told you about herself? She's much more awesome than that.

It really is good seeing her. I was worried. She hasn't really said it, but she didn't even leave a note when she left. She just kind of vanished off the face of the earth a few days after she got out of the hospital.

I think she thinks it's "safer for everyone" that way. Pro tip: when Jeanette says something is "safer for everyone", she means "safer for Tara". She has it in her head that I'm a delicate flower who needs coddled. While I'm not the strongest person I know (I bet you can guess who is), I'm stronger than she gives me credit for. Especially after I almost literally stared death in His face.

And I think she needs me. I've read her posts. I know the stuff she's going through, and I'd be willing to quit school to go with her. Me and my blood sister against the world. But I know she'd outpace me, sneak off without me noticing, Just to keep me safe.

Oh well. I guess she's not the only one who can ramble. Anyway, if responses from her are slow for the next few days, it's because I've managed to get her under-the-table medical care. Possibly against her will.

Tara, out.

I Really Shouldn't Be Doing This

It'll take a while, but my current destination is Champaign, IL.

I shouldn't be doing this.

Every little fucking voice in my fucking useless head says I really fucking shouldn't be doing this.

That's where Tara's going to college. She's been emailing me constantly. I haven't been answering.

I shouldn't. But I need a friend right now.

Also maybe someone who can get me some fucking codeine through her student account. That'd be pretty fucking rad.

More when I get there. If I get there.

No fuck killing the kids, you guys were right. I'm not a fucking baby-killer. I was raised fucking better than this.

I'll give them some choice blogs and my email address. Or something, fuck, I don't know. Something that'll help when their imaginary friend comes back in six to ten years.

I really shouldn't go looking for them today. I really shouldn't. My arm's still fucked up.

Shit, I wish I was Dean Winchester, and not for the first time, either. Well, I mean, without the whiny little brother and celestial conspiracy bullshit and the whole dying all the fucking time thing. I could just use an awesome car, a trunk full of weapons, and, more importantly, a bunch of fake fucking ids and a fake insurance card. That would be fucking rad.

Instead I have a revolver, three fucking bullets (and three more bullets MIA), a buck knife, and the fucking public transportation system.

Shit, maybe I should look into credit card fraud. TV makes it look pretty fucking easy.

Sorry. I'm still kind of enraged and on a fucking whining streak. I don't get a fucking rest period. I don't get a week or two to have my arm heal. I don't even get any fucking codeine.

I mean, fuck. If I'm not Made of Fucking Adamantium by the time all this Smiling Man bullshit kills me, I'll be really fucking surprised. Also, dead.

I'm going to go find those kids. I'm leaving as soon as this gets posted. Then, after I find them, I am going to shove my revolver so far up the ass of the first Eldritch Abomination or its fucking servant I fucking meet that when I pull the hammer back, its teeth are going to rattle.

Even if it doesn't have fucking teeth.

So much fucking rage.

Crisis of Morality

The agony has subsided. Slightly. I should probably go to a doctor. I'm not sure I want to trust one, though. I mean, I know I'm wanted for questioning in Illinois...and New Mexico...and Indiana....but I really don't know if this thing is set right.

Oh well. Rationing the vodka a bit, but it's helping.

Speaking of things I need to drink to do, I went to church today. Spoke to a priest with a...veery edited version of the truth. I didn't get much help.

God, it all happened so fucking fast. I was typing and then bam, there was the fucking Slender Man, and he's so, sooo much worse in person than I ever could have imagined. Before I could even really react he had me up in the air practically fucking encased in tentacles. I managed to get my arm free and I shot him about fix times in the "face" area. It didn't do anything, but I thought I was dead at the time. Might as well die fighting.

There was a sickening crunch, and I black out after that. I'm assuming the crunch was my arm. I wish it had been my neck.

See, I know what I'm supposed to do now. I know why the Slender Man thrashed me. When I came too after losing half a fucking day, I left myself a clue--or Slendy did, or some muhahaha-ing idiot in a mask did, whatever.

My browser was open to the Everyman Hybrid wiki. One line in particular was highlighted, on the page for the Second Corenthal Report:

"Father, I would make sure it was okay with Man before we did that. He is very, very greedy. Apparently, the Reverend didn't know that Man doesn't share."'

Smiley has taken children marked by Slendy. You know, future victims like so many other fucking kids. The next generation of Prisms and Zeke Straums and Milos. He wants me to bring them back to him, and I'm pretty sure I can imagine what he'd do if I won't.

What do I do? If I save the kids, they're doomed to a Runner's life, at best. If I don't, Smiley will torture them to death, at best, and then Slendy will make me wish I was dead long before he ends it for me.

I almost wonder if I shouldn't just, and this is going to sound really fucking sick, kill them myself. Quickly and painlessly. Bullet to the brain or a snap of their tiny fragile necks. They won't have to worry about the Slender Man or the Smiling Man or whatever else is fucking out there. Then maybe I could shoot myself and save Slendy the fucking satisfaction.

But if I die, then there's no one to keep Smiley at bay. There's no one to keep it away from Tara.

I know this sounds, like, really fucking crazy, but I'm not sure I can make a good choice in this situation. Can I really give two kids to the fucking Slender Man? Do I even have a fucking choice?

Owowowowowowowow

oh god i'm so glad i didnt throw that vodka out yet

my arm's been set ow ow ow

son of a bitch i dont know if i can use the colt with one hand and one eye i dont even have a matching set

jesus im going to black out for a bit

SO

IT TURNS OUT THE SLENDER MAN IS KIND OF A DICK

I'M SHAKING WITH FEAR AND RAGE RIGHT NOW SO I'LL BE BRIEF

I WOKE UP MISSING NINE BULLETS I CAN ACCOUNT FOR SIX OF THOSE

I HAVE NO MEMORY OF THE LAST TWELVE HOURS

OW FUCK SHIT I THINK HE BROKE MY LEFT ARM

GOD FUCKING DAMNIT I'M A LEFTY

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN

I'M GOING TO GO SEE IF I'VE WRITTEN DOWN ANYTHING CRAZY OR IF THERE ARE HIDDEN FILES ON MY COMPUTER AND OH YEAH MAYBE PUT MY ARM IN A SPLINT BECAUSE JESUS FUCKING CHRIST IF I WASN'T SO ENRAGED AND FREAKED THE FUCK OUT THIS WOULD PROBABLY HURT MORE

FML