I Found A Flash Drive Documenting A Bizarre Psychology Experiment In 2009. This Was What Was Inside. (Part 22)
This is part 22 of a series.
Day 26
11/9/2009
2:30am
Am I dreaming now? I feel warm. It is pitch black outside, but the warmth from the dream is inside of me again. I can see my parents’ faces. If you ever see this, mom and dad, I love you. I love you so much, and it kills me that you will never be able to love me again after this. I hope you know that I fought every step of the way.
Please God let this be reality. Please don’t let this be a dream. I want it to be over. I want everyone to know what this place is. Aspen and Tabitha are gone. I could not let them go on like that. I have fought and struggled to see clearly, and I can finally see that they are such pitiful creatures. I had to end their lives.
At least Tabitha was willing. She looked so grateful when I raised the knife over her. She bore her chest as though she would impale herself on it if I could not. Aspen was harder. She squirmed away from me like a rat, running and looking back with those unseeing, charcoal eyes.
I had to tell her Master wished it. Master wished for her to end everything. Was it not a dream? It could not have been reality, none of this can possibly be so. And yet, I watched her do it. I felt the cold ground biting into my feet as I followed her to the unearthed well. I felt the vomit spill over my chin as I grew nauseous, yet refused to avert my gaze from the sight of her stuffing the smooth, water-worn rocks down her throat until she could not breathe any longer. She was a soldier until the end.
And now, the sirens are coming. They are a lullaby. They are singing me to sleep, along with all of the bleach I just drank. I can almost remember the humble beginnings of this experiment. I had the best intentions; I had so much zeal to see into the human psyche. But what I have found there is a chasm desperate to be filled: with love; with hatred; with religion; with doubt. With fear. I have seen into the well of the soul. It is bottomless. It is corruptible.
But who am I really to say these things? What do I know… I can’t even tell you when the corruption in me began. It was long before we arrived here. It carried me to this place. It ensured that I would find a way.
I do know that I am sorry. Deeply sorry. And I no longer have a place in this world. I may never have had a place to begin with. But at least now, I can die with the warmth in me. I can die knowing exactly who, or what, I am.
Read part 1 here.