My breathing came in quick, rapid gulps. I clawed at the stone floor, at nothing, wanting everything, nothing... I flopped onto my back and stared at the ceiling, at the blinding lights, and I choked on loneliness... Bile rose in my throat, and I forced it back down. I ran my grimy fingers through my hair, and my breath hitched. I wanted warmth, I wanted comfort, I wanted... It didn't matter what I wanted. It was gone, all gone, and how long has it been? Three months? Six years? It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered, nothing... I turned over on my side and stroked the floor. It was stained in blood. How hard had I fought against it? I couldn't remember. I closed my eyes, and I sucked in a labored breath. I needed something. Anything. Something other than the cold gray floor and the same electric lights, the ones I woke up to every day. But really, did I sleep? Could I sleep? It didn't seem like it. I opened my eyes and gazed at the bloodstain. Whose was it? Could it be my mother's? My father's? Or maybe my sister's? Did it even matter? Maybe nothing mattered. Nothing at all... I sat up, every muscle in my body aching. Was my family dead? I stood up shakily, and leaned against the cold cement wall. I pressed my forehead against it and drew in a long breath. Everything... Was... Fine. I forced my gaze over to my left, and heaved. Bodies... Dead bodies. My family. I felt bile rise in my throat again, but this time I didn't force it down. I sunk to the ground. Why hadn't I noticed their rotting corpses? I crawled over to them. Human flesh... How long had it been since I had felt human flesh? I stroked my sister's hand. Cold. I threw up my head and wailed into the everlasting silence. No. No. I grabbed my mother's arm. Limp. I screamed, and, in desperation, grabbed my father. His blank eyes stared back at me. I threw him against the wall, and crumpled to the ground, pressing against my mother. I needed something living. Warm skin. Eyes that saw me. I clawed at my mother and sister, sobbing. "Come back! Get up!" They didn't. They lay there, unseeing, unfeeling. Dead.

His friends had come back to him.

They had left for so long, he was worried they would never return, but they had come back. It was barely and audible murmur tickling the shallowest places in his mind, but it was there. Completely unintelligible, but there nonetheless.

The sensation washed over him, covered him in a blanket of warmth and ecstasy. Mere moments ago he had felt alone. So very, very alone. Yet now he could hardly remember the sensation. It was like a fleeting dream escaping his grasp. No, nightmare. It had been a nightmare.

Oh, what joy. What rapture! What salvation! The Women in White had been cunning, but he had been far too crafty for them. Yes. That was what is friends were communicating. Congratulations for his cunning.

Oh, The Women in White had been worthy adversaries. They had found that fiendish blue pill when he had hidden it under his tongue and in the hollow of his cheek. Oh, yes they had. The Women in White had punished him for his crimes. Made him shallow their capsule. They had promised to banish is friends.

They had. But The Women in White had failed. His friends had come back to him.

But he, Aaron Thomson, had beaten them. The answer was so simple. So gloriously simple. He would sallow the demon pill, oh yes he would, but right after he went to the bathroom and vomited his enemy away. Down and down it went, swirling away with the rest of the filth.

Did he enjoy making himself vomit? That was beside the point. It was his friends. He would do anything for his friends. Anything.

That is what separated him from The Women in White. That is what make him stronger. Even at his weakest, even with them draining his strength, he was stronger. And he had his friends to thank. Yes, his drive for them made The Women in White fail.

Oh, and they had failed. His friends were back. His friends had come back to him.

Their voices were getting louder. They were just on the edge of comprehension. He could almost make it out. Yes. YES. The Women in White had failed. They should be punished. Yes, punished indeed.

But how? No, not like that. That was cruel. Too cruel. But they had taken his friends from him. And he was no longer alone. He could do it with them. He wasn't alone.

Never alone. Never again. His friends had come back to him.

It is all dull

When they close me

No air, no sound

No spark of light

Comes from that small window

Covered by spider webs.

All is silent,

The world loses existence.

It is me and him

And the solitude

He reminds me of in my ears.

They say with abhorrence

That all I utter is fear.

But, I saw its hands reach me

And I loathe him;

More than they loathe me.

They say I invite evil

Yet evil has befallen on me.

They say they detest it

When I scream.

But I detest it far more

When he finds his way

To my soul

When he reaches

Those aching wounds

And daggers them with mockery.

They say that

They will keep me there,

That I mustn't scream

But I scream!

I scream when he takes

That veil of darkness

And covers me

It is impossible to breathe

I scream and he laughs

They shout at me,

He laughs.

Alone look it up in Webster's dictionary and it gives you the words to describe how it feels but words like separated and lonely, forlorn, and my favorite desolate. All fail to really capture the feeling of alone. Your mind in utter chaos of the whirling dervish of emotions of woe and longing for the hole to be plugged so you don't lose all of you through the sucking vortices of grief, longing, sadness, and desolation. No life raft in this place, so you drift in restlessness inconsolable grief for the loss of something or someone held  so dear. My mind is trapped and isolated in this place with no one to talk to not outlet for its emotional upheaval. Alone five letters strung together to describe a feeling that is a conqueror of even the greatest minds but these letters this word really can't convey the feeling of being alone. The vortex is steadily sucking my mind down into the oblivion of isolation and loneliness down down it goes and will it ever return to me? Someone please break the chains that are dragging my mind into the void of alone. My body is here but useless against all that is bombarding my mind in this island of dejection I am stranded on. Isolation is a torture that can happen in the middle of a crowd. And the vortex of alone whistles and moans as it pulls your mind down further and further into the vastness of Alone. 

Please, please let me out.

Furious, desperate scratches, a desire for freedom that leads to the loud echoes of a body slamming into a door.

I can't take anymore of this.

Exhaustion. Fatigue. Resignation. A body slumps against the door, so close to freedom, and yet so far. Freedom is intangible, a taunting dream that haunts her waking moment.

Why are you doing this to me?

Flashes of memories. Of sadness, anger, regret. She thinks maybe she deserves this.

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

Self-hatred wars against pride, and she clutches at her head, tries to shake everything out. Shake everything out, until she is empty again.

Please make it stop.

Emptiness is so much better than hurt. Numbness is preferred over pain. She starts to rock back and forth, sobs wracking her body.

I just want everything to end.

She stills, looks up. Dries her tears and smiles. Her eyes are empty. Her smile, devoid of emotion.

No more.

She decides she doesn't have to play this game. Freedom was tangible.

Freedom is in my hands.

A knife to the throat. To the wrist. A gun to the head, a rope to the neck.

I can be free in so many ways.

She is gone. Free of this life, free to be her.

She is free.

17th Week

This has been my seventeenth week in the jungle and I forgot how to cook! I have no communication with the others and haven't taken a shower in a while.

18th Week

I miss all of my family and friends. Yesterday I ate a human his name was Bob. I am running out of time on this Earth! I forgot which berries are poisonous and which is not! I hope someone finds this journal!

19th Week

We're am I this morning I just woke up next to a river and a book that is titled Journal! Shout out to Bob (sorry for eating you). I will try to make an SOS in the jungle. It'll be hard because their are so many trees!

20th Week

My stay here was horrible and my life has been wasted on something so useless! So at the dawn of tomorrow I shall hang my self! Goodbye World!