The voices in my head have stopped, as they always do this day of the year. I finally got tired of running, I finally caved and gave in to the men in beige. They took me back to my “room” where I spent the majority of my childhood.
Diary, I’ve told you this before, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t set the fire to our home. I wasn’t responsible. I WASN’T RESPONSIBLE!!!!!!! It was Mark, oh that mean Mark. I saw him in the bushes, smiling the same mean, cunning smile he would smile when he was up to no good, while I was being carried out by a man in a yellow suit, writhing in agonizing pain.
Ever since that day, the voices started tormenting me. They told me horrible things about my family. They told me how my mother burned, twisted and turned, her charred ashes scattered all across the ruins of our destroyed home. How my father tried to put the fire out but failed, as a broken, burning column fell on him and crushed his bones.
And ever since that day, I began seeing red. I was seeing red when Hunter “accidentally” fell off a cliff during our school trip, I was seeing red when I “accidentally” drowned Matt in the pool, I was seeing red when Amy “accidentally” fell and had a miscarriage, huh, good riddance to a teenage pregnancy.
Three accidents within two months, now that’s a record. Oh yes, that’s the reason why the men in beige put me in my room, where I didn’t have anyone to confide in but you, dear diary.
It was June, two years ago that the voices had stopped. or so it seemed and I was finally released from the psychiatric care aka my “room”.
I enrolled back in school, made good friends in Oscar and Paul, had the time of my life. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and when I’m involved, they come to an end even sooner. By the end of March this year, I saw him again, Mark. While I was stuck in an orphanage, he was out there, living his best life, knowing all too well that he had killed the two people who gave birth to him, and ruined the life of another person they had given birth to.
I’m not a good person, not by any stretch of the imagination, but seeing him non repentant triggers the red in me.
May 19th is the date my parents were killed. It’s the only date the voices ever care about. It’s the date when my demons come to face me. It’s the date that constantly reminds me how much of a failure I am. I couldn’t save them! I COULDN’T SAVE THEM!!!!!!!!! And now, the whole world will suffer. All the Pauls and the Matts and the Oscars and especially the Marks will suffer, for I am out for vengeance.
Oh diary, you’ve helped me so much. You’ve always shown me the way. Whenever I confide in you, I always get the greatest ideas. I’m coming for you Mark, I’m coming for you.