Diary Entry - November 18, 2019

I’m sitting here in the hospital waiting room. It smells like antiseptic and the fluorescent lights buzz above my head. It’s so quiet, except for the ticking of the clock in the wall. I keep checking it, even though I know the time doesn’t matter. Time stopped the moment I heard the words “car crash”.

Mom’s sitting across from me, but she’s not really here. She’s staring at the floor, tears in her eyes, but she’s not crying. I think she’s holding it in for me, but I just want her to let go. We should be crying together.

I kept thing about Dad. The way he always smelled like motor oil and dirt after work, how he used to laugh when I’d ask him to fix my bike. I can’t stop imagining what happened, what it must have felt like when the car hit him. I know he was always careful, always making sure the cars were safe, and now—he’s the one in danger. It’s so unfair. How can someone who fixed cars for a living be taken out by one?

I haven’t heard anything from the doctors yet. My hands are shaking, and I keep rubbing them together, trying to make the nervous energy go away. They said he was alive when they brought him in, but I don’t know what that means. Alive is different than okay.

Every minute feels like an hour. Every sound makes me jump. I just want to see him. I need him to be okay. But no one is telling me anything, and it’s like I’m stuck here in this waiting room, waiting for the worst.

Please, Dad. Please be okay.

Diary Entry - November 25, 2019

It’s 3:42am and I still can’t sleep. I’ve been lying in bed for hours, my mind racing through the same thoughts over and over. The clock on my wall keeps ticking, like a countdown I can’t escape from.

A week has passed since the accident, but it still doesn’t feel real. I keep expecting to wake up from this nightmare, expecting Dad to walk through the door with that greasy smile on his face, telling me everything’s going to be fine. But he’s not coming home. The room still smells like antiseptic, even though I’m miles away from the hospital now. The silence at home is deafening. Mom’s barely spoken since the night he was brought in, and when she does, it’s like she’s talking to someone else. Sometimes I think she’s forgotten how to talk to me.

I keep thinking about the day we got the call. It felt like the whole world froze in that moment. Everything after it has just been a blur—doctors, paperwork, endless waiting. The day we found out he was gone is still so vivid in my mind, like it happened an hour ago. I’ve never felt more lost in my life. There’s this weight on my chest that won’t go away, and nothing I do makes it lighter.

I feel like I should be stronger, but im not. I’m so tired of crying but I don’t know how to stop. I want to scream, to break something, anything to release this pressure inside me. But all I can do is lay here, staring at the ceiling, wishing I could turn back time.

I miss him. I miss him so much.

Maybe I’ll try to sleep again. Maybe tomorrow will feel a little less empty. But right now, it’s hard to believe it ever will.

Diary Entry - December 18, 2019

---

---

It been a month since the worst day of my life. A month since the accident. I don’t even know what to say anymore. It feels like I’m losing pieces of myself everyday, but somehow I keep going. I have to.

Mom got a job at the diner last week. She says it’s just temporary, just until we can figure things out. But I can see how tired she is. I know she doesn’t want to be gone all day but she has no choice. We need the money. I can’t even remember we sat down for dinner together—just the two of us. Now it’s always me, picking at whatever’s in the fridge, trying not to think about how empty the house feels without Dad.

She used to be the one who stayed at home, who made sure everything was in place, who held it all together. Now she’s always on the phone, always checking the clock, rushing out the door before I even get up. It feels like the world has turned upside down, and I’m just waiting for it to right itself. But I’m starting to think it never will.

The truth is starting to sink in, I think it’s finally hitting me that he’s gone. I keep expecting him to walk through the door, to hear him yell from the garage, telling me to get out of the way while he fixes something. But nothing’s the same anymore. It’s like the life we had just vanished with him.

I try to pretend it’s okay. I tell myself that Mom’s just tired, that things will get better. But I don’t think they will. At least not in the way they used to be.

I miss him. So much.

And I don’t know how to fix this.

Day 1

fAthEr iS teaChing mE HoW to wRite. mYy nAmE Is mAdElinE KolEman. I aM 14 YeaRs OlD.

—

Day 201

I don’t understand why he keeps insisting I do these. He’s a very good pretender. But I know the truth. One day he’ll betray us both… I know it.

Day 472

Kurt asked about my journal. He thinks it’s funny I list them by the days. I’m glad he can’t understand braille yet. Otherwise, he might be cross with me for what I said about Father. Kurt is a fool. A naive fool who is far too kind. I blame Father. He was the one who got him into this foolish religion. God will not save us. God did not save me. I saved myself.

Day 473

Yesterday was my birthday. I am 16 year’s old. I think Father felt bad for me. Blind people cannot drive cars or get driver’s licenses. Let alone a blind mutant. It’s fine, really. Kurt can take me wherever I want to go. Soon, we’ll leave this place and run far away.

Day 882

Father did not come home today. Kurt is such a worry wart. He believes something bad has happened to Father. Perhaps he’s finally abandoned us.

Day ?

I am tired. Kurt is tired. He misses Father Ariandele. We found this old church. It’s not much but it’s good enough. No one will ever hurt us again. I miss Father Ariandele. I hope the human doctors are taking care of him. I hope I will see him again. I hope he will be proud of the woman I am.

They asked me, “Why did you do it?”. I said, “I fell in love even though I knew the consequences of falling for him would destroy me”

From the very first minute, I had fallen in love.  I had fallen in love when he had said my name for the very first time. I had fallen in love when he said “I kinda like you too” I had fallen in love when he said he loved me on the third day. I had fallen in love the moment he grasped my soul with those inquisitive brown eyes of his

I think I fell in love the moment I saw him laughing from a distance for the first time I fell in love when he almost broke his back trying to wave at me from inside the boys washroom I think I fell in love when I could no longer stand his absence. I fell in love.

I fell in love despite knowing what would happen.

I knew it would all crumble down, when I told him I liked him I knew it would all crush me when it was over

I knew it was the start of everything but I also knew it was the end of everything.

When I went on the trip and he didn't seem to miss me When I told him I missed him and he said “chill lmao”

I knew when my best friend got dumped that the same would happen to me He was all I wanted but I don't think it was the same for him I could tell he loved me but I'm not quite sure he loved me the same way I loved him.

Remember the very first time we kissed? You stared into my bewildered eyes and calmed me down by closing your eyes and going for it. I ask myself  “Why did it have to end?” even though I know very well why it had to.

Remember the very last day we saw each other before you broke up with me over text? You hugged me. You interlocked your hands on my stomach and rested your head on my head.  Your friends pulled you away but I knew that it was all you wanted to do. Remember how you stared at our interlocked hands? I think I knew what would happen at that moment. I could tell from the way you refused to come to school for “jackshit” 

I think I knew it would be over when we never talked during those short three months. We ve never had a serious conversation before. Sure “love can be silent”. I agree. But our love wasn't supposed to be that silent. I think our friends knew more about our relationship than we did. 

I can't stop crying.  Im studying chemistry and all I can think of is  “How could he be so distracted by me? What is he even thinking about?”

Why would you keep my hopes up by telling my friends that You'd marry me ‘hopefully’? You promise me forever with all your kisses and affectionate touches and break the promise by saying you're getting too distracted? You know what really hurts?  When you told my friends to tell me that you cheated. I could see through it.

Look, you're the one true person I've ever met in my whole life.  Why don't you believe me? And for that i was ready to wait for you.  But you said no.  I would've done anything for you if you'd asked me to.

You said i didn't know you but i can tell when you're lying You called me stupid but you didn't know how smart I was.

Coward. You idiot. I loved you more than you could have ever realised. I've had relationships before but you're the first person I've ever felt like this for before. You give up way too easily. Grow a backbone. I agree with you by the way. I should've done it first. We were getting too distracted.  It was never going to work out anyways.  Lost in a blur of glitter and roses,  Suddenly all the love songs were about you Trust me.  There's only me, there's only you

Now all the heartbreak songs remind me of you God, I feel so stupid relating to the ppl who seemed so pathetic when they got dumped ç

Entry Diary #18,

From cravings to lust, I watch their window opposite my own bedroom. Eagerly I sit out of sight to watch their clothes slip off from their delicate porcelain skin to reveal their vulnerability when they are without protection.

I see his eyes move across his room, as if they can feel that they are being watched. They are indeed, by my own eyes.

Then they close the curtains making me unable to capture a glimpse of his nakedness.

Entry Diary #22,

This morning I walked into school, where everyone is huddling around a locker. I did tread lightly but managed to see what the commotion was. On his locker exactly, there was writing in blood saying:

										YOU WILL BE SORRY

I became confused with the other people, but now I chuckle to myself knowing exactly what it means.

Entry Diary #30,

I sat next to him in English earlier. Theo asked me a question on Macbeth about how he isn’t a man.

It’s a little bit ironic, to think of it now as I said, “he isn’t a man because he is scared to face his fears. His fear being his friend Banquo.” I was hinting to Theo, to face _his own fears, _while I knew I am his fear.

Entry Diary #37,

We got into an argument about something stupid, where I accidentally slipped the words out “i love you”. He screamed at me, making me wish I was dead. The words he used were against me saying rude things about my personality, things that are my flaws. He provoked sadness in me, now I am quietly grieving my own grave.

Entry Diary #42,

I waited for him outside his football club. Then I followed him home in the other direction so that we would be forced to have a conversation.

“We need to talk,” I said.

“No we don’t. Stay away from me Lola,” he said before departing into his own home.

Entry Diary #45,

I was holding a knife earlier where I watched a tear fall down in my reflection of the sliver blade. But then I smiled to myself, thinking how great it would be to use this knife against his throat.

Entry Diary #50,

I did it.

Entry Diary #60,

They found his body two months later hung up in a tree. Apparently someone was walking through the forest and they stumbled upon it. But the case became cold as they was no evidence tying itself to a killer, just a suicide.

They say in the news that he was receiving threats from someone as they knew a secret of his. He was frightened they say. He would do anything to keep it a secret, so he buried it in his grave.

But tonight, I’m digging the secret from his grave and now everyone will know what exactly he has done.

———————————

Thank you for reading this. Honestly this is something that I haven’t written before as it is out of my comfort zone and it is a creative choice that I made to leave out some diary entries to add to the thriller suspense of this. Let me know what you think and if there is anyway to improve this.

Dear diary,

He definetly noticed me today! I wore a bold red lip today. I know, a bit ..out there, but then again, it looks so fucking hot. He kept staring in math today, I even spoke in class to make the stares more frequent. I couldn’t stop staring into his bright blue eyes, they are as mesmerizing as the ocean and it’s wonders.

March 14th 2023 I haven’t written here in a while but this chick is driving me insane n I wanna get my feelings down on paper. She stared all the fucking time, as always, but today she wore this bright ass RED LIPSTICK. It was all over her teeth, n smudged at the end of the day. I couldn’t stop staring, it looked horrible. She looked like my grandma. No the lizard from Sing. No the snail from Monsters Inc. Anyways. She kept speaking in maths. Like no one cares, shut ur annoying ass up. I couldn’t stop staring at the stained teeth. Gross.

Dear diary,

I’ve worn the red lipstick all week, since he seems to like it. I even wore a crop top today, his eyes were wandering, if you know what I mean ;)) We are definetly sending each other signals, maybe I’ll ask him to hang out tomorrow.

March 18th 2023 She is the literal definition of "Lipstick on a pig". She keeps wearing the red lipstick, mabye to avert attention to her ugly ass face, but she also wore a CROP TOP today. Like- a crop top is not for everyone yk? Her stomach was hanging a bit over the pants. I was so disgusted. The navel was kinda js staring at me like tf. This is enough, she needs to stop trying so hard. Ts js embarassing fr. I’ll tell her I don’t like her tmrw.

4/12/18 my prediction for tomorrow. The weather is nice but how nice. Hopefully its not too bad, why dont we go to the store and get some coffee. Caffiene sure gets me going. How often does he come by, knocking at your door, tell me darling. What happens in the dark what happens in the dark. Everything i dont know im so afraid, how does this stop how do i behave where am i going how did i end up in this place. Lovely situation awful world where do i begin how do i find connection. Its love in the end its love that matters in the end. Do your best help others whether they deserve it or not, we all go in our situation on our own, love. Peace. War is bad your beautiful let my heart surround you. Life can be warm again. You’ll find your land dont be afraid to change. Smile

7/26/28 its not like things havent changed but how did i expect things to get better if the only gaurentee we get in life is time to pass and life to end. Well well i guess now i sit in a coffin and words go unknown. The date will always change. Time is your perception. Words you here are their projection. Stop fighting for your answers. Know who and where you belong. I stand to seek beauty between you and me. We are a endless infinity to new beginnings just you and me. How soft and sweet how soft and sweet.

1/3/14 ive been so excited i got my first xbox i forgot about this journel!! ive been playing madden with my online friend owen non stop all winter breakk.

15/09/16

Dear Diary,

I’ve started gaining an interest in this one boy from school. I’ve known of him for years but only now started taking notice. He has fluffy brown hair that falls over his green eyes in the most seductive way possible, he’s got muscly arms but like, not too muscly y’know? He’s got tan skin, but he’s not a fucking Oompa Loompa like some of the girls.

16/09/16

Dear Diary,

He kept staring at me today. I watched his eyes to try and read the emotions. And he didn’t look angry, or sad. He looked wanting. I looked in his eyes and saw wanting! And he was looking at me! Maybe he looks in my eyes and sees the desperation I feel. I’m hoping he asks me out soon, because there is no way in hell I’m asking him out first.

19/09/16

Dear Diary,

The teacher gave me into trouble for talking to Tyler (that’s his name) but like, I don’t really care. I was talking to him and that’s what matters. If I wasn’t talking to him I would be staring into space like a plant pot. Would she rather I gain social skills or do literally nothing. Plus I was wearing something tight and he kept glancing at my top half, if y’know what I mean.

23/09/16

Dear Diary,

Tyler invited me on a date today! He told me to wear something casual, so I’m going sexy. I’m not sure where we are going, just that I’m to go to his house tonight and he will take me there. I’m so excited! I have a feeling tonight’s going to be different. Goodbye diary.

20/12/22

He’s coming for me.

04/01/23

I managed to take you when he took me.

12/01/23

He is angry at me, I don’t know how long I have.

26/01/23

He’s coming for me and he says he’s going to kill me.

12/04/2015 10:32AM Well hello there…

My parents are separated, so holidays are hard on my family(us). I’m currently on a plane flying to the Americas for the rest of the season. Where I’ll reside with my mother and her side of the family before I go back to my dads in Austria for the new year. The day before I celebrated Christmas early at my dads mums house. That’s where my great grandmother gifted me a small empty book. She said it was for “My travels”. I assume it’s meant for me to write in. So that’s what I find myself doing, writing in this small leather bond book. I hear people call them diary’s and that’s what I think you are, book, a diary. And as I am not thrilled by the idea of continuing to refer to you as book, I’d like to start calling you diary. And since you don’t seem to have opinions of your own I don’t think you’d mind the sudden name change. If we are to be friends or at least as good as friends as a 15 year old girl and a inanimate object can get, you should know some things about me. Let’s go over what you already know. My parents are separated, I’m fifteen, a girl, and in a plane. That sums it up quite nicely. Now on to what you don’t know, I have paper white skin that can’t tan for the life of me. My hair is dark brown basically black, it’s straight all the way till the ends where it seems to curl, and falls at my waist line. I seem to get along well with most but I do get made fun of for not being athletic and strong. Just “weak” and “sickly for my age”. Before the separation I lived in England all my life. My two closest friends are a girl named Elcee with thick red locks, baby blue eyes, and whose half a year younger than me but still 15. As well as her sister whose a year older than us. Her name being Mary-Beth and of the pair, she more closely resembles their mother. With thick blonde locks kept mostly in a bun, and dark blue eyes. Oh last thing I’m called Elizabeth. You’ll hear from me soon diary.

• Elizabeth

12/04/2015 11:41AM Something’s wrong- maybe?

Hello Diary, the people seem to be having a fuss. Rumors of hostages, and electrical problems are spreading like wildfire. Though it does cause me to wonder-. We’ll talk ever so soon diary.

• Elizabeth

12/04/2015 12:00 PM It’s bad.

Diary, there are terorists on the plane. The pilots and some flight attendants along with a passenger have locked themselves in the cockpit. They’ve separated us into groups. I’ve assigned myself the responsibility of watching over a five year old girl whose mother was put in a different group. She keeps crying about “Tommy” but for the life of me I can’t get her to say who Tommy is.

-Elizabeth

12/04/2015 12:15 PM It’s worse than I thought.

So the terorists have broken into the cockpit, diary. Every one is being held hostage now, well except for the dead. They killed a flight attendant for refusing to follow their orders and they killed the co pilot along with the passenger that was hiding in the cockpit. Apparently the four of them kept they’re heads down till we were over the Atlantic. At least that’s what people have been saying. On the bright side I found the boy “Tommy”. It seems to be her brother. The two of them look just alike. Same shade of dark brown skin with short hair, the girls just a tad bit longer and fuller. She’s wearing a light pink dress sinched high on her waist with a beautiful design on the front and white lace trimmings, paired with white tights, and shiny black shoes. While her brother just shy of 7 wears a black cap, trousers, brown leather shoes, high white socks, and a baby blue shirt. Both have foggy grey eyes and rosey cheeks. Tears new and old stain they’re faces as they hold on to each other as if for dear life.

• Elizabeth

12/04/2015 12:30PM Nothing to be done but wait.

Diary, I found out the children’s name’s. They’re called Julia Cole, and Thomas Cole (Tommy)curtesy of the boy. The mother I find out is two groups down. Her name being Katelyn. I try to keep the children happy since I hear the whispers that we are not making it out of this alive.

-Elizabeth

12/04/2015 12:52 PM I won’t live to see another day.

It’s been confirmed in two hours time they’re going to crash the plane no one will make it out alive.

• Elizabeth

12/04/2015 1:07 PM Can we fight back?

The back two groups joined together and killed one of the terorists. He was 19. I boarded the plane just in front of him Diary. He seemed- normal. Elija, was his name I think.

• Elizabeth

12/04/2015 1:40 PM Death is of common occurrence.

The remaining three have killed most of the rebelling passengers. My group met in a circle we consist of nineteen, twenty if you count the dog. It’s me, Julia, Thomas, an old lady named Rebeca and her husband Steve. A 20 year old named Johnny, two teenage girls who already know each. One is named Alice, the other she didn’t say. Three middle aged woman, Danny, Beatrice, and Susan. A couple, their child, and their dog. Their names if I can recall are Tom, Diana, Tilly, and Clover. We seem to be the smallest group. Time is slipping out of my fingers Diary. The small talk of the group feels forced and pointless. Will this really be the end of me?

• Elizabeth

12/04/2015 1:55 PM Diary please!

Dear Diary, If this ever finds my mother or father tell them I love them. Tell them- tell them oh what do I tell them Diary? Help me, save me Diary! They started shooting at the passangers like mad men killing left and right! Johnny was hit he bled out! And Julia, poor poor Julia died right in my arms! They killed all the flight attendants ALL of them, every last one! Before two of them locked themselves in the cockpit with the pilot! We started going down right over a crowded city! Diary!

-Elizabeth

12/04/2015 2:05 PM This is goodbye.

Oh my dearest Diary, The last thing I hear as we plummet downward into a city is Ajus, brother to the one who died and leader of the terrorists scream “This is freedom, we fought the good fight!” Liar. Coward. Goodbye my Diary. I hope you find someone. Someone who’ll give this to my family.

-Elizabeth

Nothing survived the crash not even a single piece of paper. Well nothing besides the burnt shell of a book. Hey, it kinda looks like a diary.

December 7, 1954:

[This log is to track the growth and study of the experiment known as “018.” As written by Dr. Reyna Katri]

When I was first given this assignment, I was over the moon! Working with the Genetic Study and Mutation Program was a dream come true to my younger self, to know what glorious feats we could accomplish by simple changing or adding onto a humans DNA. While it started off with small things; eye shape, sharper teeth, we have quickly moved on to even greater tasks. Which leads me to write this log of our first human test subject.

I was very excited when first introduced to the experiments main subject. While it is of questionable sort (I must explain that to avoid attachment to the experiment, gender has been removed) what can be expected of a person taken from the streets? My boss, Prof. Garrison, has assured me that the subject would not be hostile and our crew must make the best of this oppurtunity. In his words, he says “this pact on society will be worth it. To raise humanity high above the beasts and create a more prosperous man for society.” I don’t truly grasp his words, but I can feel the impact they have on the others, and it only excites me further!

I suppose I should describe the subject, but briefly in case it might change through the genetic changes in the future. It has very messy and long black hair. Its skin is pale, almost sickly. And its eyes…I shudder just writing about it. Such a horrid glare from such a person! Although the color of stormy seas is beautiful, the harsh gaze they hold ruins the whole appearance. 018 is a fascinating figure, and—although their looks are off-setting— I am very honored to be working with such an incredible team to change its appearance to something above what a human being could imagine!

I’ll end this entry here. But updates will come!

December 9, 1954:

This ends day two of working with 018. While we are working to change the genetics of it, my work is limited to observing it and marking off any changes I can see. Which works perfectly fine for me, I don’t think I could handle the surgical procedure of the genetic alterations. I was never good with any blood.

Anyways, the subject has been adapting slowly to its new anatomical shape. Based on the surgeons words, they placed the DNA of cat and deer to strengthen agility and endurance. 018 has been wandering around its small room, testing out its longer legs and struggling through the feeling of the change. I entered the room earlier today, to introduce new activities. I walked it through small puzzle games to improve its mind, and making sure it keeps its humanity. 018 is mute, it seems, so I must bring it up with my co-worker Julia to see if she could outline a solution to fix that. But so far, the second day has beginned and ended smoothly.

Now, I want to write down my personal thoughts on the experiment. Although I love my work and this program, I can’t help but feel frustrated on being so limited in my knowledge. I don’t know a thing about the procedures that are made, or the origins of 018. Hell, it is almost hilarious to speak like this. I should be grateful I’m getting the chance not many women scientists can.

I’ll update soon!

December 15, 1954:

I haven’t updated awhile on the fact that nothing much had changed. We added a few more genetic changes to 018. And some of them effected it physically. It’s pale skin has darkened quite a bit, to a very healthy level. Those grey eyes have also become darker, to a near pitch black, but the glare does not lessen at all.

Today, I ran over some tests of memorization with 018. Starting small with different colors or shapes. It’s a clever thing, getting everything right quickly and efficiently. Though, when we went over some sentences, it refused to continue. I felt very upset with this. If I couldn’t get it to work, then Prof. Garrison will be upset. I did all I could to coax it to read the words and point to the picture it matches to, but nothing worked! After racking my brain and almost ready to tear my hair out (which I didn’t, it would be very improper) I had a sudden realization.

“…you can not read. Can you?” I asked it.

It looked at me silently for a long time, before making an awkward nod. I felt silly, of course a subject pulled from the streets would not be able to read properly. But of course, its nothing I could not fix.

After a long moment of explaining the alphabet and English grammar. I managed to get it to understand simple words. Like “cat” or “dog.” It never spoke,(we are still working on its muteness,) but when it read the words, it pointed correctly at the picture that matched. I praised it like I would a little child, as its progress had shown great results.

I think it smiled at me. But I don’t know if it can smile.

If any changes happen, I will write it down.

December 17, 1954:

It spoke to me! It spoke to me today!

Ah, forgive me. I am just all over the place right now. I must explain in more detail. Julia had tried to structure a solution for its speaking problem, but told me nothing could be done. The mute subject was not because of a disfunctioning voice box or tongue. But it simply did not want to. I find that to make more sense then I thought it would. I never though that 018 was any less clever than it seemed, but keeping silent is the appropriate response when met with strangers. Especially a subject with a sharp and hard gaze like it had, I had recently realized that its glare was more of a suspicion than of hate.

But I’m getting off topic! When we were working on the flexibility test with Prof. Garrison, something happened that made it yell out in pain. The professor told me it was all part of the process, but how can you call it ‘process’ when your subject is clearly uncomfortable?! If anything, the very fact it was in pain would be a direct proof of limitations that must be respected! And if you’re asking me, having your arms and legs stretched and bent all different ways would most likely get painful. Once the experiment was over, I had rushed over and started checking on 018.

I don’t know why i was so worried, just that I was. I asked it where it hurt, and assured it that I would talk to the professor about adding some limitations to avoid harming the experiment with trying to stretch the progress. In my hurried flurry of words, my ears had heard a little whisper of a voice.

“Thank you..”

…I cannot hide how it made me feel. All warm and soft, yet terrifying to realize. It is dangerous to even allow such familiarity to be shown to a subject of experimentation. But that was only one of the things I figured out..

The other was that its voice was small. Young even. Granted inches were added when the deer DNA was put in, but I was under the impression that the subject was a grown adult. That it had a mature and healthy mind. But 018 speaking only proved me wrong. The voice sounded like one of a teen, maybe 16 if im estimating?..And now I worry for both me and it. I worry for it because the implications its voice expresses is that 018 is much too young to be caught up in this program.

And I worry for me, because I now realized I’m starting to get attached..

December 21, 1954:

I cannot, with a truthful heart, say I enjoy this work anymore. Yes, being a scientist to change the world is amazing, but at the expense of children? What is the point of it? The young ones are the future, the thing we strive to make great! They have the opportunity to raise society past the age of their parents and elders

So I suppose, for the first time, I understand the Professors words. And I hate them.

But I keep working with 018, I keep trying to play along. But I think of it as often as my own child. I’m sure my co-workers have noticed my affections for it. My tests have been with positive approaches and less discipline, and I am usually absent during any physical training. How can they stand it? Watching it be pushed far beyond what it is capable of? And to dismiss it as a flaw, before adding more and more mutations to it?

It only brings pain. And hate. So much hate.

018 has grown more hostile to our scientists. It snarls almost beast-like whenever they try to touch it, and makes a show of scratching and biting at an unfortunate handler. Prof. Garrison is very agitated, I had to avert my gaze today when he ordered that it be restrained and drugged for everyone’s safety. Only I can approach it with little trouble. I must seem crazy, to be attached to an experiment. But I’ve been slowly working my way into caring for it. Asking where it hurts, taking breaks in between tests, and lightly conversating with it. It talks more often now, in small words and phrases. But I can see it..I can see the way its eyes harden when the others are in the room…almost murderous. It scares me.

It scares me to admit it, but I fear we have created a hate filled monster.

And it’s scary to admit I don’t see any problem with it.

December 26,1954:

[This entry has been removed]

January 2, 1955:

I am surrounded in red.

The containment room broke when I was going over my notes. And the rest were scattered. I can still hear screams of unknowing victims. Picked off one by one in a way to satisfy a understandable blood lust.

Garrison was the first to go.

We have locked ourselves in the lab. The rest finding ways to destroy the out-of-control creation, and I am sitting here…writing..reading my own words..hell, I can feel tears coming.

I blame myself. For joining this program, for not freeing it—_Him _when I found out. He never deserved this, and I know that. The others scurry like fools, to get rid of their own mistakes. But sooner or later, 018 will kick open the doors, his body deformed and bloody, and he will tear them apart. Nothing will be saved accept for rooms of red. __ __ This guilt is overwhelming.. __ __ But this pride is stronger. __ __ After all, I was the one who whispered in his ear three days ago. Telling him to run and that taking revenge would not be his fault. I wanted this to happen, and as terrified as I am, I could never be happier. __ __ I am a very proud mother. __ __ __ 01–03–55 __ Katri. Dead. White coats. Kill. Her __ Kill them too. __ Her words? I find. I write too. She teach. __ Sad. Like Katri. She Mom. __ I kill more. For her. __ I her son. __ Bye book. :) __ __ [Log Completed]

25 December

Dear Diary,

The day didn’t feel like the day it was supposed to be today.

The closest I got to seasonal Christmas cheer was admiring the airport decorations— I particularly loved the red stockings scotch-taped to the terminal window. I always wonder what it’s like to be the worker tasked with decorating an airport. I hope it’s a highlight of their year; I’d like to think it would be a highlight for me.

It also doesn’t feel like I’m here for a wedding. Excitement is in the air, but it feels forced, and it slowly falls down and down like too much spray from a can of air freshener.

During dinner, Alison spokd to us privately about her frustrations over the wedding. Her name isn’t on the invitation and she’s not even seated near the bride and groom even though she’s paying for most of it. Nuptials will always be an emotional affair, but you would hope these big wrinkles were ironed out by now.

Dinner conversation then shifted over to the takeover of the shopping center from Loui’s office. I don’t know how the lawsuit is panning out, but it looks like Morgan and I will be splitting things 80-20. Even given the way Alison just jumps from one thing to the next, I wasn’t prepared for so much whiplash during Christmas dinner.

I hope there’s still snow at home. It really is too bad Daisy and I couldn’t see the park district light display this year; it’s insane that they shut it off right on the 26th. I wish I could have savored this season more before I knew I realized I had something worth savoring. I really hope there’s still snow at home.

Till next time, J