User talk:Zyx Nailio

A few years ago, I found a journal in the woods near a strange building. This is what I have read so far.



Saturday, October 14



Him… he was the nicest person I ever met. Sweet, caring, and loving of me. All that changed when he met Joseph. It started off like they were just two buddies, gaming or whatever. They took off after dinner on Saturday. Then it expanded to Sunday too. Then Monday, and pretty soon, he was out all week. Night and day. Soon, I got a letter from the police and The Florida State Mental Institution. I had wondered what he had done. Or what he was going to do. To me. To himself. I opened the letter. He had been arrested and committed. He was found Friday, in a heavily forested park, chewing at his fingernails, or the last three millimeters of them to be exact. When he wasn’t chewing, he would scream. Completely unintelligible… inaudible… He had gone mad… I blame myself.



Sunday, October 21



             It has been a week since I last wrote. He has been visiting me in my dreams. Joseph. Him. Yes, him, it has to be him. He made Vincent this way and now he is trying to get me.



Monday, October 22



             There was a knock on my door today. Something in the back of my mind told me Vincent. Then it went to Joseph. I got my bat ready and hid it behind the door when I opened it. It was neither. This kid came to my door, telling me that he was Vincent’s brother. He couldn’t have been more then 17, but he must have seen the bat, because he just bolted. That’s the kind of people who live in my neighborhood. Insensitive little creeps.



Tuesday, October 23



<p class="MsoNormal">             I saw on the news yesterday that all of the people on Vincent’s floor escaped. All of them. All. He must have helped. Joseph is responsible for taking Vince away. Now he’s bringing him back. But not the way I had hoped. Two people that the committees loved have been killed by their respective escapees… I am going into the forest because Vince knows where I live. He might find me here and I can’t take that chance am taking this with me. I found a library out here, and I think that I should set up the air mattress and get some sleep.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:solidwindowtext.75pt; padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in0in1.0pt0in">Those were the last words she wrote. I went into the library, and I saw that the surveillance cameras were still working. I saw the cameras and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to take that decision back. Vincent, apparently, had her strapped down to the floor with barbed wire. He took off her fingernails slowly with tweezers until there were only about three millimeters left. He looked up at the camera, and the screen froze. The pure horror that washed over me was like nothing I had ever felt before. The fact that it stopped right at that moment hit me in a place where my blood, no, my body turned to ice. It was now that I was able to look at Vincent thourghly. He looked like someone who had been committed for years, not just a few days or so. He had this… deranged look on his face. We met eyes, even though it wasn’t really him, it just… terrified me. His hair was all messy, and he seemed to not have gotten any sleep. I looked at the corner of the screen, and the timer was still going… When it hit about one o’clock, he got up and got out of range from the camera. It was dismounted, and turned back to the air mattress. Now it was deflated, and there was nothing on it. He turned the camera to his face, and kept it there, like he knew someone would be watching. He let it go, and I heard it shatter before it went black. My stupid mind and me decided, “hey, why don’t we go explore the creepy, possibly inhabited by insane people, crime scene of a library.” Yeah. Good idea. What could possibly have gone wrong? Everything, that’s what. As I exited the main office, the lights flickered. I know, fuel to the fire. The circumstances were near perfect. On my way down the hall, I could have sworn I heard breathing coming from ether side of me. I heard crying and my head must have thought “Hey, crying? In an abandoned library where a felony was committed? Oh boy!!! Lets go near it!” So I walked towards the bathroom, and I have that feeling where you’re being watched. The crying stopped, and the door creaked open. I just froze. I could’ve just ran, or called the police. But neither of that happened. I just froze. There was a heavy breathing, and so I threw the flashlight at it. It was a good idea then, but, when I didn’t get it back, I was alone. In the library. With nothing. Nothing at all. I ran out at that point, hoping that whatever was in there didn’t follow me, and when I got to the main office, Vincent was there. He didn’t see me, but he cut the power and left the office. Now it was completely dark, but I was right at the entrance. I almost got out but when I got to the door. There was breathing behind me. That’s the last thing I remember. So, if you’re wondering why I have a prosthetic hand, that’s all I can tell you.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:solidwindowtext.75pt; padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in0in1.0pt0in">

<p class="MsoNormal">15:56, December 4, 2012 (UTC)15:56, December 4, 2012 (UTC)15:56, December 4, 2012 (UTC)15:56, December 4, 2012 (UTC)

<p class="MsoNormal">Zyx