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The Darkest mind

Guest Malcavitch

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Guest Malcavitch

Diary entry 47.

Im not sure how i became this troubled. Confusion and a cloud of black fog takes over my mind.

I'm not the Doctor i once was. I remember coming here to help the innocent casulties of war, but so much has changed. I HAVE CHANGED. I have lured and taken blood from innocents for reasons i cant even explain myself.

My only thoughts are that, we all changed when this place changed, those immune to the virus either survived or turned mad. I guess we all changed in order to survive this.

I have collected 43 specimens of blood, all drained from my victims. I have no logical reason behind what i do. Some where willingly taken, others forced from them whilst i had them chaned and gagged.

The look on there faces when i take there blood. It frightens me, i can see the hate, the ultimate fear of what happens to them next. I do not know what becomes of them, they try and plead for there life with those piercing, pleading eyes.

Why do they always cry in the end?

Surely theres some cumfort in death during a time like this? No running, no more fear, just the hope of a better next. I am not a religious man but surely there is a next?

I collected blood from a female today, she commited suicide for reasons i do not know. All i know is that there is a pattern in her dna like all the others. Somehow our blood kills the infection it fights it with every passing moment. The cure is here i know it. If i must kill a thousand more then i will.

I'll finish off my studies on this woman first. Ive had her chaned up and let that infected child bite her daily. I must know how her blood cells fight the infection i must. I must. I must.


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