This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/googlyeyes93 on 2024-09-23 21:54:22+00:00.
DAY 16
I honestly don’t even know if that’s the right day. At this point, everything is blurring together. I’m on… eight days, I believe, of no sort of sleep whatsoever. The feeling of electricity in my spine is the only thing keeping me going at this point, making it impossible to stay still or fall into any kind of rest. The auditory hallucinations have gotten much worse, and now I can clearly hear the numerous horrors inside the subject room. Even worse, the smells are beginning to come through as well, only adding to the stench of excrement and old viscera exuding from the observation room.
Nothing I’ve done has worked. I’ve tried… a few methods of killing myself at this point. Hanging was ineffective, leaving me with nothing but a bruised neck and trouble breathing since. Taryn made it obvious that blood loss wouldn’t do anything, so that was useless. An attempted drowning in the bathtub was cut short when I realized asphyxiation wouldn’t do anything, just like when I hung myself. Probably for the best, because that was an awful, awful feeling.
My last attempt was at a tried and true classic- the Reaper’s bath bomb. I plugged in the air fryer from the kitchen, figuring a toaster just might not have the oomph I need. Fill the bath, turn the fryer on four hundred, and let me cook.
I can still smell something burning, probably my internal organs, considering everything still feels like it’s on fire. The aches aren’t going away, and I’m not sure that I’ll be able to stay alive once I’m finally out of this, assuming I ever am.
I’m going to search for other ways. If push comes to shove, we have some drugs in the medical bay, but I’m honestly not holding out hope at this point.
—-
DAY 17(?)
I’m starting to see things. Whatever the noises are coming from, whatever the others have been seeing, they’re finally starting to appear for me.
They’re not in focus though. It’s like… it’s like looking through a patterned glass window. Their basic shape is there, but everything is blurry or mismatched, colors end where they shouldn’t and others warp so nothing is clearly distinguishable. I’m terrified of what I’m going to see when they become more clear, as what’s already showing is horrifying.
Some of the figures gathered around One are terrifying, with many just having large, red prisms of color where heads should be. Meanwhile most of the ones around Two are wearing a bright pink, and the singing… the singing is something I can hear no matter where I am. It never stops.
I’ve seen water dripping on the floor here and there from seemingly nowhere, but I now see it’s due to those gathered around Three. Their screams are some of the worst, like someone shrieking at the top of their lungs underwater, only bubbles escaping as liquid fills their airways. I can only imagine this is the sound they were making when they died.
Five hasn’t stopped banging at the door, and I still don’t know what it is that’s surrounding him. There are just… mounds? Not people figures, like the others- okay, some are more humanoid, I guess, but others are just massive piles. The worst thing is it looks like they’re burning, molten embers pulsing among dark gray and black fractals of light.
Philip is catatonic at this point, but I think it’s more because he’s shutting down from stress. I believe he’s at the point of audible hallucinations, so I would imagine he’s hearing the same things I am. Whatever is around him, the sounds are of screams and flames, a smell of charred flesh lingering in the air.
Four… Four seems to have gone feral, and we locked him in his room due to the signs he was exhibiting. Whether it’s just a psychosis exhibiting rabies like symptoms or not, that’s a whole other hell we aren’t willing to bring in here. He was almost howling in his delirium, hair matted and skin glistening in sweat as he tore at it, trying to get something out of himself.
I know there’s someone behind me, too. I know who they are. I know why they’re here. I just can’t bear to face that.
Murray has checked in on me from time to time. I believe he’s in the same state of audio hallucinations, but has yet to get a grasp of everything. The only other guard still alive has expended every bullet he could find from the security room, putting each one into his own head, one at a time from every possible direction to try and end his suffering. He’s still sitting in there, clicking an empty gun against what remains of his jaw. The top and back of his head are mostly gone, one eye lolling out of the skull to stare at the gun as it clicks again, empty. His lower jaw is mostly gone, but he’s still trying to speak. Or just crying, sobbing in loud, dreadful screams that gurgle through a mangled throat.
I have noticed one constant, no matter where I go, and it’s not the one that’s attached to me. This figure is clearer, made up millions of refracting and morphing beams of light, every color I could think of and beyond. It was… I think it was human, and the face was kind, even welcoming, but no matter how close I tried to get to it, it was like I was being pulled away. It was staying in the same place but I just couldn’t reach it, like infinity was standing between us at any given moment. No matter how long or fast I walked towards it, an eternity passed while getting no closer.
I don’t know what this is, but I believe it may be the key to stopping all of this.
—-
DAY 18
The figures are growing clearer now. Jesus… these images are worse than any nightmare I could conjure up, even after my worst bouts of sleeplessness. They’re still not totally there, but now they’re less… broken, I guess is the best way to put it. It looks like I’m watching old footage off a flip phone camera, like someone tried to make a horror movie on one.
The girls still dancing in circles around Two, occasionally taking a leave from their spot to kick or hit him, were the frankensteined, mangled corpses of girls cobbled together. There were stitches along their necks, and eyes were missing from some. There was this horrible makeup like a harlequin doll that was on their face. The pink dresses they wore were stained with scarlet blood, right in their abdomens. Two was approaching the same state of lucidity as One has been in since a few days ago. He’s not taking things as well though, with mostly unintelligible screams before one of the little girls uses their high heel shoes to stomp into his face. I can see, from the observation window, one of his eyeballs skewered through one little girl’s stiletto heel. If we’re being honest, I was rooting for them. At least someone was getting some good out of this situation.
Four and his… things. They’ve begun to rip each other apart. First he made a lunge at one of them, then they all started going at it, beginning to rip him limb from limb while biting his flesh. Hospital gowns flapped as they ran, showing bare asses that would have been comical if not for the savage gore staining the gowns.
One was still in high spirits, somehow, despite now being riddled with bullet holes. At some point, I heard a much louder bang than usual, and checked the room to see that the caved in part of his skull was now wide open, brains splattering the wall behind them. Despite that, he was still jovial, congratulating one of his many phantoms on their great aim. All that he got back was a gurgling scream from one that was missing it’s entire upper skull, face consisting of nothing but lower jaw and flapping tongue. It must have been in control of the shots, because something else hit him, splattering gore through the front of his shirt just like what happened on. the exam table all those days ago.
Taryn is just hanging by a thread, though she’s gone mostly catatonic now as well. There’s an older man who keeps hovering around her, though he simply glares from afar instead of doing anything. I’ve lost track of the times I’ve woken up, so to speak, unsure of where I am or how I got there. It’s just moments of blacking out here and there, without any telling what could be happening in between points A and B.
Philip… I don’t know what’s happening to Philip. He’s lately taken to sitting in his cot, covering his ears, and just screaming at the top of his lungs. His pleas alternate between apologies and begging for his life, but he’s screaming as if he’s trying to be heard over a cacaphony of terrible sounds. To his credit, that is the case, as the two figures near him are screaming in constant, shrieking pain. They’re just pillars of fire, standing beside him at all times. He’s been complaining of the heat in between fits, saying that he’s burning up, and I can see why, finally.
The issue is confronting my own demon, so to speak. I can see her clearly now, the exact same way she looked when she died. Peaceful, for once, instead of screaming in delirium about the thing that was after her. It was as if she had gone in her sleep, though that wasn’t the case at all. She was there, awake, screaming in delusions and convulsing as the prion ate away at her brain, taking any semblance of peace from her for the six months before she died.
All I can hear most of the time are muffled screams, the last things I heard from her. God… I’m so sorry, mom. I’m so sorry that I’ve brought myself to this. I just wanted to help myself, help anyone like us. I’m so sorry…
—-
DAY ???
I’ve been… gone? I guess that’s the bes...
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