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Exio

Private Journal of Alexander Camille [2/10/18]

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What even is today's date? I don't even know.

It's been a very, very long time since I have decided to write anything. The only reason I feel so compelled to now is because the number of convoluted thoughts which bombard my mind are more than what I am used to. So, I feel compelled to write.

If someone ever finds this journal after I am gone, what you're about to read--should you continue to do so--is entirely true and is solely for the records of history.

The U.P.S.--the United People of Salvation--have tortured me to the brink of death itself, leaving me with a severed arm, multiple scars from a series of nails, a fractured (or is it shattered? I certainly wish I had a functional MRI machine) patella, and toes battered beyond recognition. They have scarred me--and therefore, my name--permanently.

From here, the ink began to run out, until it reformed again mid-sentence in another colour.

Yet it appears that the U.P.S. have seen the error of their ways, as their name becomes tarnished by the stories of what they have done to me, as well as other crimes they have presumably committed. I hear much through the grapevines of this rag-tag society I call myself a part of.

Yet today, my radio had a familiar voice reverberate from it--Roy. The man who orchestrated this against me. He called to ask for forgiveness--that is, request we forgive them for what they did to me--by offering to rebuild the body they once tore apart, piece by piece. In return, they want me to be the spokesperson of their organization; clear the name of his "family," and he will "rebuild" me.

The irony of me becoming complicit--even supporting--the group that brutally tortured me and has seemingly damaged many others throughout their tenure in South Zagoria is not lost on me. I recognize it fully. But am I so silly--so naive--to believe this is not a fair recourse? That perhaps they are being truly sincere?

It was not but less than a week ago I felt myself brimming with hatred, anger, rage, and thoughts I never could conceive of them being my own. Yet here I sit now, writing in this tattered old book of blank pages, contemplating a fate which I never thought to be possible or conceivable.

Reconciliation is upon us, but the question which I cannot remove from my mind is this:

Am I, in believing his words, setting myself up for a new life? A new hope? Or is this simply another chapter of blood and pain? I find myself physically shaking at the prospect of this being a setup. If what Roy says is true, then this can help me start over again. This could be the, as the saying goes, "new leaf" which must be turned to restart my life in South Zagoria. I have met several doctors, researchers, virologists... Maybe the med student doesn't have to die.

But if this is a trap, then they better take the other arm.

Edited by Exio

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