August 12, 18XX

No, this can’t be real. I think that creature is scaring me again, showing me things that can’t possibly exist. It must be. If I can calm down while writing this, it will all pass.

I woke up on the floor of my parents’ bedroom. My hands and knees were dirty and scraped. The worst part was that I was covered in blood. But it wasn’t my blood. The blood led to my parents’ bed.

On the bed lay my father’s axe. My father… he’d been hacked to death. And my mother… her eyes had been gouged out.

I didn’t do this. I couldn’t have had the strength. But this isn’t a hallucination—it’s all too real. It was that creature! It possessed me. This wasn’t me. It wasn’t me!

I don’t know where my brother is. I’m too afraid to check.

August 14, 18XX

It’s been two days. That creature still doesn’t respond. I found my little brother in the pigsty—there wasn’t much of him left.

He was so small, but even so, how could I have carried him there?

In truth, it’s all so calm now. I’m not even scared anymore. And I’m not sad, either.

Given our reputation, no one is likely to visit us anytime soon. The bodies are starting to stink. I can’t stand it. But I can’t open the windows or curtains, or someone will see us.

Actually, I don’t want anyone to come. It doesn’t matter what I say to them—they’ll still think it was me. They’ll assume it was thieves, at best.

Maybe someone will take me in. But I know that, sooner or later, their altruistic mask will slip. And they’ll look at me the same way my mother did… once upon a time.

Honestly, I already know what I have to do. But the creature isn’t answering. If it doesn’t respond by tomorrow, I’ll just end it.

Although, either way, I’m going to end this soon. It’s only a matter of time before passersby notice the smell.