CONTROL

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I woke up this morning, like any other morning. I know I’ve been recording my dreams like this, but this didn’t feel right. I woke up sore. Things seemed...different. I don’t know. All I have are brief flashes. Screaming. Rage. Distended mouth and split teeth. Maybe I thrashed around in a nightmare, who knows. It’s giving me shivers.

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Another nightmare. That makes the second in two weeks. It was the same as the last one, images of darkness and rage. Very violent and disturbing. I’m getting a little worried, despite the fact that they’re no more than flashes. Colin's leaving must be getting to me.

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unidentifiable scraping noises

T-today I found things on my mirror. They were written in black. I called the police, and they came, and they took pictures and they asked me questions. I was fine, but I’m afraid. Who would do this, and why? What did they write? How did they get in?

sniffling noises, something drops and hits tiles

Shit! Aww, I’m so scared. The cop said they were runes. Symbols. I don’t know what they mean, but they won’t come off.

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shitcrapshitcrapshitcrapthe policethepolice they...no, can’t call them. Can’t call them, they’ll think I did it. Okay, Connie. Calm down. Calm down. It is the ninth of October, ten in the morning. My name is Connie Mannings. I was sleeping, and I felt something against my face. I rolled over, and I found a HUMAN EYE in my bed. I just threw it in the garbage, chucked it down the chute. There was no blood or anything...just a human eye on the pillow beside me. Oh god, what’s happening?

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The dreams are getting worse. I can’t sleep without seeing horrible things. So, I stay up. I’m losing control. I walk down the building’s halls at night, watch them twist and turn because I can’t see proper. It’s hard. I sit on my computer, I drink coffee, I do anything to keep from going to sleep. I’ve washed the cats twice this week...

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I was at work, up late. Nothing to do, so I’ve been working overtime. Today, I drifted off. Not to sleep, but you know when you’re really tired, and you just sort of sit there? Well, I was doing that. Derek was up then too. He saw me, and caught my hand. That’s when I stopped and the pain hit. I had been stabbing myself with my pen. Blood was trickling down my arm from about six deep holes. Poor old guy was shocked, asked me what I was doing, asked if I wanted a lift to the hospital. I was in shock. I didn’t know what to say. I just told him to get the first aid kit. What was I supposed to do? Walk into the ER and say “Hi, I stabbed myself in the arms and I don’t know why.” Yeah, sure. That’s a quick road to the madhouse. A visit with Uncle Bernie would do me wonders! Oh, Christ. I feel like I’m losing control. Why won’t this stop?

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Oh lord...

squeaking, then a rush of water

Gotta get clean, Connie. Get clean. Make a log, it’s proof. Okay.

loud breathing

It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. It’s the twelfth of October, nine in the morning. I woke up today, and felt a hand against my face. For a second, I thought it was Colin. He always used to do that. I wasn’t thinking, I just told myself he was back, and rubbed up against the hand. Then I felt something wet and cold against my face. My eyes opened, and there was that hand. It was covered in cold blood. For that matter, so was I.

crying sounds, pounding on tile

I yanked the sheets off, except they were covered in blood. I was covered in blood. I saw why. There were two eyes on the pillow. Big, brown eyes. Two arms and two legs in the bed, hunks of bone sticking out of them. But no body. Just splashes of blood on the furniture, ceiling, everywhere. There were deep gouges in the bed and the limbs were all tied up. I screamed and ran and hid in the bathroom. I looked in the mirror, and realized I had blood all over me too. And the runes were back, done in human shit. I could smell it. I kept running. I searched my house, couldn’t find anything except a big knife I didn’t know I had. It was covered in blood too. I couldn’t find the body, so...so...I came here, and I’m getting clean. Gotta get the blood off, then I can worry about everything else. It’s like I’m possessed. I can’t take. Take. Take this anymore.

voice dissolves into hiccupped sobbing and babbling

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My name is Connie Walkers. I’m thirty four, unmarried. I live in apartment 1616 of this building. I’m sorry. I can’t take it anymore. I’m going insane, and I don’t want to hurt anyone else. Colin, I love you.

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A/N: Inspired by the audio logs in System Shock 2...I really liked the tone they set, so I applied it to the horror! To me, the most horrible thing I have ever endured was the loss of control. Enjoy, everyone.