Nineteenth Post.

I don't know what you want me to say. I don't know what I want to say, let alone what I need to. If there is something proper that is supposed to go here now after that last post I sure as hell don't know what it is.

Fuck and hell and damn and ass and fucking fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!!

I don't know what to write here. I've been frustrated all day, it's not going away. I'm not going to sit here and ramble about my problems or the problems around me that are affecting my mood. I look forward to sleep, actually. My dreams have been just blackness, nothing, it's peaceful there. I've been cold, but I feel warmer there at least. Like I'm being held. I usually smack another out of defensive instincts, but I don't mind there.

You probably want me to talk about my previous post, eh? What do you want me to say? I survived the company of two predators? Hell, I'm surprised too, people. I'm not fucking Wonder Woman (nor do I dress anything like her). I don't know how I was taken from the woods. I don't know how I ended up in my backyard when I woke up. The last thing I remember is my heart pounding against my ribcage, threatening to tear itself out of my body. I remember being exhausted, my mangled little body in the mud. I remember her voice, I remember her screaming from in the darkness; wanting me to get up and I just smiled and said no. It felt like that time again, way back when the air left my body. Except I fought then, even as my body spasm-ed, even when being restrained down. The blinding light above me burning into my eyes. Seeing the sun when I woke up reminded me of then, those memories flashed violently through my mind. I pulled myself up and went straight to the house. I don't know how I was able to walk, though it was more of stumbling against the fence. I don't know if being passed out for like, twenty minutes made much of a difference, but I could walk--stumble and that was enough. I went directly to cleaning off, my parents thought little when they came home and I was locked in the bathroom, the bathtub murky from mud and blood.

It took time to relax, I had to shield off most of my thoughts, enclosed them all behind a barrier. I wanted silence; I just wanted my fucking silence again! I closed some of the cuts Bad Man Walking made with his nails the times he grabbed and tackled me. I'm lucky enough my ribs didn't snap the time he mauled me in my room. I think it was because my body wasn't tensed up, saved him from having an actual force to break through. I was tempted to just burn close the problem wounds, but figured I had some time to kill healing. I doubt Victor would be coming back around, though concern about whether he knew just which house I belonged to outside of the woods began to eat away at me. If not only one person knows, Mr. Sunshine, and I have no idea where he is or if he is even coming back now.

Still, this might be good news, right? I'll be back to having an anonymous location.

I'd still like to know how the fuck I was moved, though, and by who. Course, when do answers ever willingly hand themselves over?

I just want to kick someone in the pants. I guess that means my mind is healing. It's been fractured, I think, but's a quick mender. Heh. Good thing too.

We wouldn't want to lose that stability.

Exactly. That would be bad.

Very, very bad.

Last thing we need is more bad, things are just getting started.

This post here is to tell you guys that I don't know how to explain what happened; I told you the events that took place Sunday morning to the best of my ability. I'm still trying to organize it all out, figure out some answers. I like answers. I need to give you guys some answers soon too. Fuck.

Ignore and fluxes in my responses, my frustration will subside, even if I have to force it.

Least yesterday was quiet, aside from the ruckus in my head. I laid in bed most of the morning, organized my desk. I figured I'd get something in order. I really need to use it more. As useful as it was keeping my room torn apart I think it needs to be fixed up now. Ughs... Do not want to go shopping for boxes. Do. Not. Want.

Sigh. You're probably reading right through this. Sorry. I just don't know what I am supposed to say. I am pissed off. I'm concerned. I am relieved, though I feel like I shouldn't be. It's confusing. I'm not happy (big surprise. (I'll kill you.)) but I'm relieved that Bad Man Walking won't be tricking nor killing anyone anymore. While his interactions here were short lived I believe he leaves behind a path littered with corpses. I feel... Sad, because I feel that there was more that could have been done, but was not. And I know there was nothing that could of stopped the process, but it still doesn't stop this pestering feeling. Which leads to me feeling like the bad guy from both sides, sympathizing for the enemy. I am not getting started on Victor. Too much to be said, not feeling like I can handle the load of stress on that half of it. Aside from that, I really don't even want share it, no offense to anyone reading this. Just doesn't seem right, at least right now.

Figuring out my time unconscious and what happened during then is near the top of the list, healing first. The other things I have time on.

You know, I've been curled up in a blanket since Sunday. In my super baggy clothes to cover the marks. It's mostly because it helps to avoid them from being seen, but it is also because I'm rather cold. My room was warm as hell last night, but I still feel cold. I think it's because of opening the cage, I can feel the pent up fury from childhood boiling. It feels like the warmth has begun to bleed out of me, like back then. I do not wish to be in my bed curled up for hours upon hours just trying to get warm again. Even now I'm cold, my parents even noticed it but I just smiled, despite it being hollow. Gave them an excuse, they believed it. Amusing what an elaboration can do. It's just a transition phase; I couldn't find the missing pieces in the equation as a child. I believe now I am capable of figuring it out. Now I have no choice but to fix it.

Hello memories, let's stop forgetting, shall we?

---------------------------------------------

Sorry, change of topic. Something isn't right. I don't know what it is, I'm not fucking losing it. Last night, tonight. I don't know what is going on. I can't see it, I just hear it. Someone--Something is in here, breathing. I hear it. I HEAR YOU! I fucking know it, I hear you, where the hell is it?! Who is it?! This isn't funny. No, not funny. Not now, not now.

Stop.

I don't know what is going on, I'm not crazy. I listened outside, no! NO! It's inside my room, no one else is noticing, even when they come it. The damn thing, it falls silent. I know where it is coming from, I know the spot, I just don't understand... I go over there again and again and it's just not there.

Stop.

I tried to feeling around for a hidden figure, nothing. It's just... Breathing. Not comforting either.

Stop.

I'm so fucking tired. I just want to sleep. Everything hurts. I'm feeling concerned my skull might actually be cracked, maybe that's the problem. It doesn't hurt. No. Doesn't explain enough. Logical, perhaps, but my head isn't hurting. I'm rambling. I'm doing it again. Think, think, think.

Stop and think, I got it, self. I got it. I like it better when I have verbal conversations with me, feels weird rambling here. Do. Not. Like. Can't hear. Only see.

What the fuck is that noise?!

Who the hell is breathing? Why are you breathing? Stop it!

I should sleep. I need to sleep. I am so tired. My body is shaking, I don't quite know why. I can't think of the reason other than lack of sleep. No, I am not nervous or scared of anything at the moment. Concerned a bit. The breathing is annoying the crap out of me, I had to leave my own room to change. If it's some dirty pervert with an invisibility cloak I'm going to tear their reproductive organs out. I'm frustrated. I'm pissed off. I'm confused. It's not to the point where I should be "shaking with rage", though. Doesn't come close to that feeling. Mind is merely fucking with me, needs to sort through information. That makes better sense. That I am more familiar with, yes. It's happened before, I think, if I remember correctly.

I'm going to get any warmer. So cold. I'm just going to sleep. I'm going to go and lay down, and I'm going to just try and warm up even though I know it will prove useless. Was warm when mum hugged me earlier, I remember that.

Too tired to think. I just want to fall asleep watching Donnie Darko. That will be a good night until I wake up all uncomfortable and stiff.

It's been incredibly quiet here online, weird. Do. Not. Like. Do. Not. Trust. But whatever, I'm actually pretty glad for once. That means I don't have to stress while I heal on up to be all shiny and new, well... Damaged goods can't really be new, but you get it. If that damn breathing went away I think I'd be in a content state. Nothing like the dreams of silence, though. Nothing beats that.

12:27 A.M. and I'm tired.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Ramble. Ramble. Ramble.

Sorry about posting this now, not earlier. I originally wrote this Tuesday, but just didn't get through with finishing it. Decided to post the latter issue if it happened again. Which it did. Today. In the kitchen this time. I don't know. I want answers. How was I taken from the woods, some answers from another individual... Ahem. And this breathing thing.

Least the snark is still here. <3

Oh, and shame on all of you for not noticing the seventeeth instead of seventeenth "typo". Seriously? Seriously. I was waiting to see who the hell was observant enough to call me out on it. Lame.

Going to go watch the movie now. I'll be around for a bit more. I'm always around. Mostly. Heh.

Stay safe,

-Shady