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January 8th, 1996Hi! My name's Johnny and I just got this cool journal. I don't think much use is going to come of it, but I don't want to disappoint mommy, so I am writing this right now! Today was my 10th birthday! I got a new bike and a Nintendo! I was disappointed though because no one showed up for the party besides my mom, dad and sister. I miss my old friends. Ever since I was removed from school they won't talk to me. My mom says they sent letters and I really wanted to read them, but she said she would read them instead for me. They said really nice things! I haven't been sleeping much since I was expelled. I don't like sleep anymore, that's when I see my friend. He scares me sometimes because of how he looks but I know he will always be there to protect me! Like he did at the school!
December 18th, 1996
Mommy keeps worrying about me because I don't sleep. I told her about my friend but she doesn't believe me, she says to stop talking about why I don't go to school anymore. I don't know why. He only protected me. She keeps asking what happens in my dreams and I tell her the same dream over and over, that of just my friend and I playing. She asks about what actually happens in the dreams, and I just say we play hide and seek. The weird part is, I keep waking up in places around my house with things torn up around me; I guess he is getting tired of looking for me.
February 21st, 1997
I turned 11 last month, mommy surprised me, she took me to see a nice man. I see him weekly now, he talks about how my week is and how everything is going, but always turns up on the same question. How is my friend doing. I don't like talking about him though, ever since I have been talking to the nice man my friend is becoming mean. He talks about bad stuff. He says if I keep telling the doctor about him, he will hurt me and my family. I haven't said anything about him anymore. I just talk about some of my old friends, the ones that don't talk to me anymore. The nice man put me on some pills for my sleeping. Lately I haven't been seeing much of my old friend anymore. I don't even dream, I just wake up in my bed, which is a nice new thing since I used to wake in my front yard.
April 28th, 2001
So anyway, turned 15 a few months back, decided to write in this old thing because of some recent... incidents happening. The pills the psychiatrist had given me are slowly starting to become more ineffective. I noticed it last month, when that "friend," no, that fucking thing was back. It was something I could ignore at first; the first 3 days it was just a faint whisper, nothing serious. But the next few days were strange. I only had fragments of dreams, him talking in them in an inhuman way, something straight out of a horror movie but with a much deeper, darker... more evil pitch. The first thing that he said made me want to vomit; all I could hear was him saying in a hushed voice, "Time to play, Johnny." I knew what he fucking wanted, that old hide-and-seek game.
I could almost feel the chunks of vomit sliding up my throat; it was too much and it woke me up in a cold sweat. I decided to keep on the prescribed dosage, but it wasn't helping, I kept hearing him. Each night another number counting down. I was so afraid to see what would happen at 10 when we used to play that I fucking started swallowing these pills like they were candy. Each night I would add another because I could hear him, almost like he was scratching at the door to my subconscious. I am going to run out soon and they won't give me more until next week. I am starting to fear what will happen as I only have 2 bottles left and by the 1st of May I will be out.
April 30th, 2001
I ran out today, I fear what will happen tonight when I go to sleep. I told my therapist about it, how the dreams are coming back, he said there was nothing I could do and if I took anymore pills I could overdose and die. He is surprised I haven't been killed yet. After our talk, my dad and I drove home, he hit me today for the pills, but what else could I do? I had to stop the clawing, it was tearing my head apart. And what of him, he had no place to talk, he drank excessively as if it was fucking water. I'm not the one who needs help, when he is the one coping over some shit all the time. Some day I will show him who is the better man. My mom won't do anything though, she just sits and watches him destroy himself. I am sick of this shit, I have to get out of here.
May 1st, 2001.
I saw him today, the sick fucking bastard. No wonder I blocked out his image for so long. He was normal for the most part, a torn black shirt with muscles rippling through his body, and I mean in the most literal way, they almost appeared to be ripping out of his body. And he had jeans. The only thing was his feet, bare to the touch but where his nails were, there were grotesquely shaped razor sharp talons. His hands too, the nails almost touched the floor, there was green fungus growing to the point of turning black, but there was a subtle hint of blood red within them, again being razor sharp, anything they touched shredded like it was a piece of paper being ripped to fast from skin. That's when I realized I had never looked at its face was the worst though, I only caught a glimpse of his face though through my hair, after I never wanted to see it again. He had white skin, almost as white as if sketched from a crayon. The only thing that offended his skin was the veins, beating with the pulse I knew wasn't there. They where everywhere on his face moving with every shockwave that went through his body to move the blood. They were so prominent it was almost as if anything disturbed them, they would burst with puss and blood.
There were no eyes, the indentations were made into his skull but almost like it was a simple mistake made by god himself there was nothing in there, you could see through his skull into the back, dust collected in there as well as mold. Even though the eyes weren't there I could FEEL him looking at me; FEEL the hatred for my living as though it was emanating from his body. It was as intense as the fiery depths of hell. I couldn't look at them anymore, my eyes shuffled down to his mouth. It was like it wasn't supposed to be there, like he himself took his hands and ripped it open, there was no symmetry to it. There were needles from his mouth ripping out of his jaws, the faint hint of rust and blood on them from the age of when they had been shoved through the mouth. the worse part was you could see the holes in which were made when he spoke, the needles piercing through his lips, new ones being made every time he opened and closed his mouth. As another was made blood would sputter out another while it healed with inhuman speed, it had been too fascinating to look away.
Anyway, he told me to go hide again and he would come find me, I hid in my bedroom this time under my desk. He couldn't find me, he came close once but only shuffled through things looking and accidentally dropped some papers. I haven't seen them before, but hey it was a dream and I just had to hide. He scared me though, I know that sounds weird, a 15 year old being scared of a silly dream, but he said things, talked about murdering my parents and raping my sister. This has gotten so fucking out of hand that I plan on not sleeping for the next few days, should be fine though. I found these papers on my floor that I have to shuffle through and it's getting towards midnight so I can do without sleep for a while. After reading these I will probably just go on the internet for a while, that usually keeps me up.
May 2nd, 2001
I was right, I could go without sleep, but I wish I wasn't. The papers I found were disgusting. They were from when I was kicked out of school. I never understood why I was kicked out, all I could remember was a kid shoving me and me blacking out. Then the faint sound of a lullaby as my friend held me and ran his hand through my hair. I woke up to find myself back home and getting the news from my mom. These papers though... this can't be right. Hospital bills for a child's broken neck, expulsion for shouting obscenities at the teacher, stabbing another child. No this can't be right. I couldn't have just blocked that out. That wasn't me, I was being blamed for something I didn't do. I calmed down a bit though, thinking it was nothing since it happened so long ago and that. But then I found the letters, from parents and eventually my best friends. They said I was a freak, to institutionalize me, lock me up for good.
My friends wouldn't say that, they wouldn't right? I mean no child could have done something that bad... and I was with him that day, sleeping and dreaming with him. The look on my mothers face when she came into my room though said it all. The terror of my new discovery made the blood run out of her face as it paled. I didn't want to believe, then my dad came in. They are still yelling in the kitchen downstairs though, I can hear them. Yelling at each other over nothing. I think I am going to go to bed now though.
May 3rd, 2001
I remember the dream, it was so vivid. Instead of him finding me he wanted me to find him. I searched for him for what felt like a couple hours, that's when the nightmare kicked in. I could hear my mother screaming from the kitchen, as my dreams always took place in my house. I was about to walk into my sisters room when I heard it, but ran downstairs to see what happened. What I saw still makes my stomach clench. There she was, dead on the kitchen floor. Blood was running from her face where it appeared a knife had slit into her mouth to the back of her left ear. I vomited on the floor, my eyes blurred with tears.
"This isn't real" I told myself, but it felt so real, even though I could almost feel the dream around me.
That's when I stepped back and tripped, banged my head on the wall and swore. It wasn't a bad fall but when I got up I saw my dad, laying there. Clothes torn like he was in a struggle, neck slit with pieces of his throat dug out of the protective cavity of skin that was there. I couldn't breath, all I could do was gag on the vomit that no longer could come out. All of the contents of my stomach had been spilled onto the floor when I saw my mother. Again I told myself it was a dream, that's when I heard the sound coming from my sisters room. The blood left my face. I raced up the stairs until I reached the top. I opened the door and tears ran down my face as I saw my friend... This beast. ripping open my sister. I thought it was over, but no. He unbuttoned his pants and dug into the freshly made hole with his... I couldn't take it anymore, I fainted. I awoke to a new home though, this place is nice. They have all the pills I need and a whole house full of other people like me.
I have no idea what the date is, I am too drugged to even care, they thought they could hold me. Well they can't, I escaped there with the help of him. He said it would all be better, but I don't believe it. I am back at my old home, with my fathers gun. It's been so long, and I am so tired. I can hear him coming up the stairs as I write this, I will not let him hurt anything else in this world.
POLICE REPORT: NOVEMBER 23RD, 2002 Johnathan Howard, age 16, Found dead at his home. Reportedly committed suicide after breaking out of Marksville institution November 21st, murdering 5 workers and 6 patients. Was placed there after DNA found him guilty of raping his sister and murdering his parents, previous aggression: Broke the neck of a 9 year old boy after boy asked if he could borrow a pencil. Shot himself repeatedly in chest with father's gun. Found in pool of blood on floor after neighbors reported in that they heard laughing coming from the house and then gunshots. Victim was smiling when found with the words "Run run little one, for we have had our fun. It is time for me to find another one." written in blood on his bedroom wall. Officer Smith reportedly started seeing an eyeless man when he slept the night of the incident.