Entry #1
should I even do entry numbers…? No, that's stupid.My name is Victor. Victor Summerton. I'm about 18, though I've honestly lost track of time in this place, I might be 17 or 19? I was born on April 26th, 1978. As for what day today is, I have no idea. Hopefully, this journal will help me not completely lose my mind again…
I erased just about everything I've written in here. I figured I needed a restart for everything after she
I guess a good place to start is by documenting where I am. I'm not sure what to call this place, but it's like a parking garage or warehouse of sorts. Lots of puddles everywhere. It's hard to explain, so it might be better if I draw it.
wow, that looks really bad..
One thing I've noticed is that the pillar in front of me says “C8” on it. Maybe it's to specify which area of this place I'm in? I'm not entirely sure. This whole place smells like rusty water and dust, if that's even a description that makes sense. But, hey, it's accurate. At least I think it is…
I suppose I should stop here for now. I'm getting a bit hungry, so I'll go searching for food.
I feel nothing here is worth writing about, but, writing is a distraction, really. I think I said something about me hoping I wouldn't lose my mind again in the previous entry, maybe I should elaborate on that.
I'm not diagnosed with anything, no, we never really had the funds for that, but there's something wrong with me. I hear voices and see figures a lot. I've noticed that writing and drawing here helps calm them down if only a little. As I'm writing this, Mary's just in the corner of my eye.
I'm not sure what her deal is. She doesn't try and scare me or anything, she just stares at a distance. Despite how she looks, I'm pretty sure she's not 100% pitch-black. Sometimes I can just barely make out the smaller details on her face, like where her eyes dip into her skull, or her smooth jawline. I've never been able to get a good look at her actual hands, but I've always been able to see the strands or strings coming from them. I'm not sure if they're part of her body or if they're just attached to her wrist?At this point, I've just grown to accept her. She's not a bother, if anything, she's company for me. Not company like Hailey was, but…
…
I guess she's better than nothing…
But is she better than her?i don't know if anyone can be…
Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off here or back at home. On one hand, I'm away from them, but here… I feel so alone a lot of the time. I've encountered people, sure, but they've never been like…
Anyway, I've hit the jackpot with these random boxes. I found a few spare pencils, so I'll be able to write a bit longer! If only I had some kind of pencil sharpener, or, heck, a mechanical pencil. That'd be nice. A mechanical pencil. If I'm ever bored and don't want to write, I could just click click click and it'd be alright.
I'm already getting to that point where I don't know what exactly to write about, but I still want to write.
Maybe I should just sketch instead.
I'm still in this stupid level, but I found something today, and I'm a little freaked out. There's a poster on the wall of some jester, but I swear, it's like it's staring at me. I don't know if my head is just messing with me again, but this feels so much more real than that. Besides, I haven't hallucinated anything like this before. Either I'm really starting to lose it again, or this is actually real.
I can't really make out some of the fine details from my spot, but it's advertising some other level? It either says 839 or 389, I can't tell. It's stupid, I know, but I'm trying to work up the courage to walk up to it. It feels like it's a person, staring right through my soul.
I'm just overly paranoid again. It's fine. It's fine.
