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An Unmarked Journal.

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*It is an old, weathered leather journal, the pages crisp and yellowing with age. The first few pages have been torn out, and the hand writing is slanted and sharp, with no indication of who wrote in it.*

Entry One:

Sheer fucking luck I found this thing lying around, last one was too soaked in blood to the point that everything I had written in it was ruined. Try to keep these to a minimum, don't know who the fuck might end up reading this.

Been a few days since I got tossed out, battered and bloodied with a new fucking smile carved on my face, another bullet in me, another stab wound, and a gouge missing out of my head when that sweaty cocksucker tried to blow my head off. Work on your aim, prick. Fucking lucky I turned my head to look at him at the last second, or I wouldn't be writing in this right now.

Woke up with most of my shit taken from me in a growing puddle of red, the lights of the camp shining through the trees but I knew better than to try and go back there. I picked myself up and stumbled, well, crawled, really, away. Into the forest, down the hills, around Zelenogorsk until I found a house in one of the neighboring towns and went about patching myself up. Most of everything I wrapped a bandage around, and I had to make do with a sewing kit and a dirty mirror to at least make an attempt at holding my face together.

Radioed my friend, told him what happened, then passed out for, I don't know, a day.

Took the next couple of days pretty slowly, worked on getting my shit back together and finding equipment. That wasn't the best idea, as I ran into them, and they recognized me. Basically told me not to come back, which I had already figured out. That bitch was with them, the one who cut my face.

Thought things couldn't get any worse, until Kalo came with a contract, which involved carving me up. Considering he inadvertently helped me get an AK later in Vybor, I decided to let it slide. Hurts like a bitch, but what's a few more fucking scars? Told him I was in-between jobs right now, and he said maybe something might happen. Not holding my breath, but if I ever piss off noseless for whatever fucking reason I have a way out. His wife isn't too bad on the eyes, either, so there's always that.

Shoot-out broke out in Vybor after a bit, and I exited stage right. Making for Berezino, heard there's some sort of camp or some shit there, maybe even military. They have to know a thing or two about proper stitches, especially since that quack in Vybor could only disinfect and reapply bandages, which I could have done. Hopefully they can patch me up.

After that, I have some things to take care of.

Keeping names and people and places to a minimum for the most part, since I never know who might end up reading this thing.


Fuck it, no-one is ever going to read this thing.


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Entry Two:

Berezino was a fucking bust. Marched all the way out there only to find out that the soldiers had been run out of the town by constant raids. Wasn't a total loss, at least. Met a guy on the road leading out of the town, said his name was Joel. He knew a thing or two about medicine, had been a field medic or something like that before the infection. I decided he'd do and he went about patching me up, stitching and re-stitching my face, the knife wound, my leg, everything.

He wasn't too shabby, to be honest. Though I'm going to get second opinion on things if I find another doctor, just to be safe. He gave me some morphine and a bottle of vodka, and as much as I hate booze, it helped dull the pain a bit. That, combined with the morphine, had me out like a light for the rest of the night after Joel packed up and moved on.

When the sun rose the next morning, I was back on the road to Vybor. Pretty uneventful trip, met a couple people along the way, but nothing too interesting to note other than stumbling upon some makeshift camp in the middle of the woods. Two little pup tents surrounded by walls and barbed wire. I wasn't getting in there, and I had no interest in doing so.

After I got back to Vybor, I traded with the shopkeepers, tried to get some information on anything new happening around the town, any news about the groups that are wandering around. Guy I was talking to was pretty new, and was about as helpful as you'd expect. Heard about a "Kyle McKenzie" who's running a group somewhere, but I need to know more before I decide on anything. Kalo is still out there, I know that for certain, and the Russians and Muslims are still having their dick-measuring contests with each other at the expense of everyone else in the fucking country.

Bunked down at the town to wait out the night, talked a bit with some of the other shopkeepers there. They're the "Chernarus Trade Federation" or something like that, but I don't really care. They have supplies, are willing to trade, and don't ask too many questions. And that's good enough to me.

Couple of new faces arrived at the town as the night wore on, and one of them asked me if I recognized him. I thought I recognized his voice... But I don't know. Need to watch myself. Not planning on staying in the town any longer than I need to.

Once the morning started peaking over the horizon, I left the town to go for a walk.

There's a hill that overlooks their camp, covered in trees and bushes and grass. Pretty far away, to the point that I wouldn't be seen unless they knew what to look for. Still didn't take any chances. I had a perfect sight-line of it with my binoculars. I probably spent a good hour or hour and a half just lying there in the dirt, watching them. I recognized most of them. The old bitch, "A" and "M", my M, heading out on the roadway in their jackets, the fucking Dragon standing guard in the tower, and several, several others I only saw in passing. One of the men who had stopped by Vybor during the night showed up at the camp while I was watching, I could tell it was him because of the giant, stupid fucking backpack he was wearing. I wasn't sure if he was visiting, or if he was one of them. I'm leaning towards the latter, but I have such a hard time with faces sometimes.

I thought I saw her at one point, with her blue beanie and blue, well, everything. It was only for a fleeting instant, and because of that I could have been mistaken, but I thought I saw her. While he was tying me up, Kalo mentioned that she was still at the camp, and seemed to be doing just fine. I'm glad to hear that.

I would hate if something happened to my little Four-Leaf Clover.


Edited by Jman14102

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Entry Three:

I went back again today for a couple hours to watch them again. Two of them walked right past my hiding spot without seeing me, they maybe missed me by thirty fucking feet, and I swore my heart was going to burst out of my chest. Too close for comfort.

It was foggier today, but I was still able to recognize them. M and the Old Lady, the Wolf bitch, Saw, and a few others. I'm almost certain I saw her today, looking out from that tower she would always stand in. The blue beanie and the rifle, it had to be her. I kept watching to see if I could absolutely confirm it... and they saw me.

That guy in the backpack has to be Ice. He and the Old Lady and M all watched me with binoculars from one of the towers. I prayed they didn't see me, that they were looking at something else, but when M started waving right at me, I bolted.

Tore the fucking stitches in my fucking leg, but I didn't care. If they caught me, that would be the least of my problems. I ran and ran, through woods and fields, up and down hills, through creek beds and towns. I had no idea where the hell I was going, but I knew I just had to keep moving. That's how the cops caught me back in the states. I thought I had lost them and could take a breather, and before I knew it there were six of the fuckers circled around me. I was not about to make that mistake again. If they caught me they'd do a lot more than fuck up my face this time.

By the time I felt safe enough to rest in a wagon I found, it was starting to get dark. I wandered through the woods, not sure of where to go, just following my compass' directions that kept leading me north. I eventually came out on a clearing and dirt roadway with a big castle off to my left. I wasn't too keen on walking blindly through the dark in what I understood was wolf country, so I decided that was my best bet. Clambered up the hill side and hunkered down in an empty, dank, cold room. The stone was hard and worn, but it wasn't any different than fucking solitary confinement back on the island. I've had worse. Now I'm here, writing by the light of a glow stick because I'm too fucking scared nervous to turn on my flashlight. According to my map, Serverograd isn't too far from here. Back to square one, right? I figure if I get there and move west, I can use one of the far out of the way towns or camps or whatever to rest up for a bit and figure out what the hell to do next.

I need to contact noseless. I need to find him. If I want to take back what's mine, I'm going to need help, and I'm sure he'd be more than willing to do so if it meant gaining a way to get back at some enemies of his own. If I can't find him, or reach him, or if he's already dead... Well... That is a very big problem.

Jesus Christ, what the hell am I going to do now?


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Entry Four:

Well, I figured out what the hell I am going to do now. At least, for the next day or two.

Headed out from the castle as soon as I was able to and made for Serverograd. Town was as empty as a fucking tomb, but I was able to snag some painkillers and bandages from the hospital. No sign of any of Quinn's friends. Place has been empty for weeks now, so I think it's safe to assume that no-one's coming back at this point. Pretty sure most of them were just staying around there to see if they could get in Quinn's pants, anyway. I know that's one of the reasons that had me staying.

Followed the road westward. Ran into a guy near the military checkpoint. I was still pretty uptight about everything that happened yesterday, and he seemed pretty nervous himself, so we didn't talk a whole lot. But he did tell me some useful information before we parted ways, at least. Mainly that there are people living out of Novaya Petrovka (I think I spelled that right.).

He wasn't lying. There are people in Novaya. Whole fucking factory area on the outskirts of the town has been turned into a camp. Wolf Pack and the Black Roses are using it a sort of base in their stupid fucking war against the stupid fucking Jaysh Allah or whatever the fuck they call themselves. Whole place is run by a woman named Constance. She calls it "Sanctuary". Turns out it's the same one from Berezino that got shut down by the raids. They moved over here, but that didn't stop the Russians or Muslims from attacking, since they were working on rebuilding from an attack the night before when I showed up. Got some treatment from one of their doctors, cleaned up the stitches and improved them. Still going to scar like hell. There's nothing they can do about that. Fucking bitch is going to pay.

Hung around for a few hours, saw some familiar faces. Bobby Kalo and Brandon Terrano, to be specific. I knew Brandon was running with the Roses the last time I talked to him, but now it looks like he's an actual member. He doesn't know what happened at the camp, doesn't know about me and My Clover, doesn't know any of the specifics, and I hope it fucking stays that way. All I gave him was that I had a falling out and was striking out on my own. Have to be careful, though. From listening in on some of the other conversations, a lot of the people at this "Sanctuary" have been by their camp in the past couple of days, so I need to watch what I say around them. I don't know what's being said about me, if anything. Kalo was his usual dumbass self, but that's par for the course. Didn't talk to me, and I didn't talk to him, but I know he noticed me being there. We really have to stop crossing paths. He and his crew headed out after a while when some of the Wolf Pack got ambushed by the Muslims. The ensuing silence, because good fucking lord are the Roses anything but quiet, allowed me to talk to Constance a bit more. She's pretty laid-back with a good sense of humor, twenty-five and from Texas. Cute too. All the things I usually look for. But she's a big deal at her camp, and someone with a lot of attention focused on her, so she's off-limits.

I've heard of Constance. I know who she is. She talked about her quite a bit before I joined up with them. She's a similar case to me, except where she wanted to leave, I didn't. To her credit, she figured me out pretty quickly after we started talking. Asked to see my wrist, showed me her own. Didn't judge me when I said I was good at certain things, but I'm pretty sure that will change if she asks them about me. She's on good terms with Sun "S", so that already leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Pretty sure she's gauging me on whether I'd be a good addition to her crew, but like I said, her attitude will probably change if she learns more about me. I've given out bits and pieces, enough to satisfy her, but not the whole story. It's probably better that way, unless she has the same tastes I do, but I highly doubt that.

She let me spend the night as a guest, and I gladly accepted. The Muslims attacked the camp later on in the evening, though it only really resulted in them firing rounds at the building we were locked up in and screaming insults at us over a megaphone. After a while they just left. Guess they ran out of ammo, Roses to kill, insults to shout, got bored, or maybe a combination of all of the previously mentioned. I don't give a fuck, to be honest. As long as I don't have any more bullet holes in me, I am A-Okay and fine with that. It's apparently a daily and nightly thing for the Russians and Muslims to attack them, and if that's the case, that's a bit of a deal-breaker to be honest. That, and the fact that "S" stops by the camp from time to time to chat with Constance. That could probably be a bad thing for me, if he finds me out here. But, it could also be a good thing. I don't know. So many opportunities here.

I don't think Constance would be too keen on letting me stay if she knew what I had in mind for some of them. I'll have to see what happens. For now, I am going to rest up here for a couple of days and try to contact my friend. I'm up north, and so is he from what he last told me. I just need to try and set up a meeting.

Wish me luck. Well, I suppose you could wish me luck. Or, you can't wish me luck. I don't know. Who the fuck is even reading this thing, anyway? Other than me, that is. Journals are so fucking weird sometimes, honestly, man.


Edited by Jman14102

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Entry Five:

Woke up to the Muslims attacking the camp again. I was hoping to be up and away before they showed back up, but they were already patrolling around the town by the time I shook the sleep from my eyes. Just my fucking luck.

As a result, I spent most of the day cooped up in the back room while Constance and her people got fucking obliterated. I have no skin in this game, and I'm not about to stick my neck out when I can avoid it. I have enough bullet holes in me as it is.

Once it was all over with, I tried to use my former status as one of them to get away from the Muslims, since I knew they had a peace deal between them. Unfortunately, one of the fuckers had "A" on his radio, and checked in with her to clarify if I was who I said I was.

Fucking bitch.

As a result of "lying" to them, I got beaten senseless and stripped of most of my shit. Didn't even get to say anything, and when I did, they just told me to shut the fuck up, even when I was responding to something they asked me. Nothing new in that fucking department, same thing happened when I was back with them. Only a few more bruises; I'll just add them to the collection. At least I was able to walk away from the "Sanctuary". I can't exactly say the same thing about Constance and her friends. She was still breathing when I dug through her pockets for any useful shit, same with the others. They were all bloodied and knocked out, but alive. So those plate carriers did their job on that front. Honestly, if I wasn't being held together by bandages and stitches and painkillers, and if I didn't have to worry about being hunted down by almost every other motherfucker in the country, I might have tried to take Constance away. It's been too long since the last one. But, like I have said before, it is so, so not worth the fucking risk.

Found a replacement pistol and some new night-vision goggles, and got a new AK from some Wolf Pack members who came by a little while after the Muslims left. So I'm actually a bit better off than I was when I first came there. Got some proper treatment for my wounds, some new information, and some new goodies. I consider that a win in my book, for the most part, at least. I'm not planning on going back there if these sorts of attacks are an everyday thing. And from what they told me, they are. So fuck that nonsense.

I bunkered down in a farmhouse on the outskirts of the next town over, Sinistok. It's far enough away from Novaya that I feel comfortable resting here, and this was the destination I had in mind heading out here anyway. Looks like someone lost a fucking argument in here, if all the old blood stains and bullet holes on the floor are anything to go by. Whoever it was must have really pissed somebody off. But, regardless, it will work for now.

I radioed noseless last night. I made sure no-one could hear me when I did. He and his friends are out looking for another one of their own, but once they're finished with that, they'll probably help me with my own "problems". A couple extra bodies for security, and maybe even a car if I can find one, would make things a whole lot easier for me. No matter what, I can't do this alone. I already have a pretty solid plan in mind. I just need to be careful with how I go about this.

She will be mine. She is mine. She was always mine.


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Entry Six:

Found a nice little place I can call my own, at least for the time being. Pretty out of the way, and it doesn't look like too many people come through here. Still can't be too careful.

No word from noseless since I last radioed him, it's been about two days now, but I'm in no rush. Decided to try and scout out the camp again, see if there was any new information I could gather. Tried a different tactic this time.

Spent a couple hours gathering equipment and clothes to change into. New mask, new jacket, sunglasses and one of those stupid fucking Russian hats, ushanka or whatever. Made sure most of my face was covered. And then I worked on a voice to use, since they would know me the moment I spoke, otherwise. Being from West Virginia and growing up in a trailer park makes one pretty familiar with the stereotypical "dumb hick" and deep south accent. Fucking moonshiners and shit, that sort of thing. As much as I hate to say it, the whole thing came pretty naturally to me, and I found myself pulling it off pretty, pretty easily.

Took the woods and nature paths southwards instead of the main roads, less chance of running into others that way. The trade-off was of course running into wolves, but thankfully that never happened. It took about an hour or two, and then some, probably, before I curved back and moved northwards through the city. Ran into a couple people, but they didn't suspect anything and we all moved on shortly afterwards. All-in-all, it worked out pretty well and easily.

Until I got as far as the camp's walls.

The Doctor was there, and I had arrived shortly after another group had attacked them, so they were all on high alert. I'm pretty sure he figured me out immediately, and if not, he had a sneaking, sneaking suspicion. I was hoping to at least be able to chat with some of them for a bit, maybe even try and lure one of them away so that I could persuade them to give me a little more information, but none of that played out like I had hoped.

I'd forgotten about the fucking "no masks" policy the fucking kid had put in fucking place. God fucking damn it. All that planning and preparation undone in a few minutes. I wasn't even able to get around to the front gate, because The Doctor asked me to remove my mask.

I couldn't.

I couldn't remove it. They'd recognize me immediately because of the fucking scars "A" gave me. I tried giving some half-assed story about not wanting to remove the mask for fear of breathing in something harmful or whatever, but The Doctor and "Al", who I guess is living with them now, and if not, she'll probably be one of them soon enough, quickly debunked my excuse. Smiles was there as well, ready to ventilate me at a moment's notice, and The Doctor was ready to send him and some of the other brute forcers at me if he had to ask me to remove my mask again.

Then I heard her.

The accent, that nervous tone always hiding behind every word, I recognized it anywhere. It was her. My little Four-Leaf Clover. She was still there. It was only one little sentence that I heard from her, but that was enough. That was all I needed.

The Doctor loaded his gun the next time he asked me to remove my mask again. I removed my sunglasses but that wasn't enough for him, and I knew what would happen if I showed my mouth. So I did the only thing I could do. I ran. Told them I would just be on my way, and fucking bolted away. That extra padding of bandages I wrapped around my leg really came in handy, because otherwise I probably would have torn out my stitches again. Still hurt like a bitch, though.

I changed into a set of backup clothes I brought along just in case as soon as I was able to, and then just started heading back up north again. Not passing through Novaya, I can hear the gunshots from where I'm staying at right now. Take a big circle around it and get back to my "home", change back into my fucking jacket. I miss that thing already. After that, I'm starting to plan. I can't get near the camp because of the fucking Kid's mask rule, so I'll have to try and get one of them when they are away from camp. Bird and "S" like to make trips up to that military base. Maybe there. It'd certainly be easy, and it would sure as hell make for some nice payback as well. Let's see how smug you are when you get shot in the leg, you stupid prick.

Might need to hold off on putting back on my jacket, actually. I'll probably need another accent as well. Maybe Irish? Picked up on that accent a lot from the one I had when I was still staying in the mountains. Still wondering where the other one went. I liked her.

Either way, I need to get my shit together. I'm pretty sure they're catching on to me. And if that is happening this soon already, that is a very bad thing. I need to be more careful. And I need to find noseless, or for him to find me. I know I have said that already, but it still bears repeating.

I'm so close. I'm so close. I'm so close.

I'm so close to having her.


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Entry Seven:

Got back to my "home" and rested up a bit. Got some more items and clothing for some more disguises and stuff. Stowed some ammo, food, standard gear, and my "regular" clothes into an old sea chest I found and hauled back to my camp (As much of a pain in the ass as that was.). I buried it out in the woods nearby, and I figure I can always go back there if I need to. I hope to be able to wear my jacket again without having to fear my ass getting blown away in a hail of gunfire. My current outfit works just fine as it is right now, though. So there's that.

Finally go a one-on-one with noseless. Radioed him and told him where I was, and waited out in the trees nearby for him. Saw him come up and go into the house, and met him when he was coming out, putting on my new voice and everything just to be sure, you can never be too much on the safe side. His accent game is not too bad either, but we knew who the other was already, so it was just a test more than anything.

I showed him what happened to my face to start things off, and he actually had the audacity to say that I might be worse off than he is. That's rich coming from him. I'm not worse off than him, by the way. Just to avoid confusion. At least I still have everything attached.

After that, we started talking, and spent a good long while doing so. I've never met someone who is almost on the exact same page as me, who sees things in such a similar way as I do. It's almost refreshing in a way. He understands what I want, and I've given him the info I know to help him out with what he wants. He isn't judging me for my... tastes either, which can't be said about pretty much everyone else in the fucking country. I'm not going to go into details on what we discussed, but he knows who I want, what they look like, and even a way to possibly get them. Noseless has been ahead of the curb when it comes to them, and he's been able to get plenty of info. He has people, he has potential connections, and he has trust and understanding, and he and I are going to get along just fine, I think.

We actually went up to the camp, in disguise and everything, and talked to some of the people there. Lots of faces I didn't recognize, which is good. And even the ones I did recognize didn't suspect anything. Noseless makes it look easy. I can probably pick up a thing or two from him. No one thought twice about asking us to remove our masks, probably because we caught them at a pretty hectic time it seemed. We ended up helping a couple of them retrieve a car, as bumpy and scary as the ride to and from there was. We retired at a nearby summer camp, and things are looking up.

I saw her while we were loitering around outside the camp. It was only for a minute, only briefly, but it was her. She was standing on the flatter, lower part of the house's rooftop. She looked beat-up and in rough shape compared to the last time I saw her, hunched over a bit and pretty pale. Guess she's been taught a lesson or two. What did they do to you, sweetheart? We'll get you away from them soon enough, don't worry. Then you can be there for me. I'll hold you close and tell you everything will be alright and okay, just like I used to.

But first, we need to get the Kid. He's been a thorn in my new partner's side for a long while now. He's pretty, almost overly, cautious. Especially when it comes to noseless. He's fucking terrified of him. Turns out the kid has a lot of connections to others, as well. His mom comes to mind, the bitch who sewed my mouth shut that one time, but there's others too. We take him and rough him up, it'll send a message to everyone. I just need to make sure they grab my little Four-Leaf Clover up in the process.

I'm looking forward to showing the Kid what it feels like to have a knife quite literally stabbed into your back. Well, into your shoulder-blade, to be exactly precise, but that is beside the point.

We have a plan. We have a plan and we just need to make sure it plays out alright. It seems like things are finally turning around. It really felt like the walls were closing in on me for a little bit there, but now that I'm with noseless and his friends, things feel a whole lot better.

I can't wait for the other shoe to drop. Something bad is on the wind. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but something is coming, and I don't like it.


Entry Eight:

*The writing is frantic, angular and sharp and very, very, clearly mad. Blood stains smudge the corners, edges, and bottom of the page.*

Forget stabbing him in the back, I'm going to fucking kill that Kid! And Sunny, that smug prick! How the hell did he see through my disguise? I had the accent on and everything and he sees right through it. I thought I could drop a flashbang and get away but I got a round of buckshot to the back for my troubles. My vest stopped it from shredding my insides, but it hurts like hell and I can already tell it is bruising really, really badly. And Sunny's bullets gave me a few new graze scars for my already-overflowing collection, god damn it! I don't know how I got away, but now I'm back at the summer camp, scrawling away in this while I wait for Asher to wake the fuck up so that we can figure out what the hell to do next.

And you know what? Fuck it with these fucking secrets and code names at this point. Anyone who ends up reading this and has gotten to this point has pretty much already figure out who I am at this fucking point. God Fucking Damn It! That throws a whole wrench into the fucking plans. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Fuck!

Ugh... I'm going to swallow some painkillers and try and sleep this off. What the hell do I do now? What the hell do we do now? Asher might still be able to salvage his new identity, but mine is blown at this point. Damn it. I'm so close to having her. She's right there and I'm so close to having her.

He better wake his ass up soon, or we will all probably be dead soon enough.

Fuck me, man. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck.

-Anthony Cleese.

Edited by Jman14102

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Entry Nine:

She's mine. Forever.

Edited by Jman14102

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*Entry Nine would appear to be the final entry in the journal. The rest of the pages are blank and soaked red at the bottom with dried blood. The pen is clipped to the cover of the journal. As you go to close it, however, there is a dry crackling sound, and a page that had been glued to the back of Entry Nine by dried blood breaks free, resting down in its binding alongside the other pages. The writing is scrawled, lazy and tired with bloody fingerprints smudging the top.*

Entry Ten:

Guess I got what I deserved.

Thought I had her, dragged her all the way to Belaya Polana, all the way east, just to make sure they wouldn't find us. Should have kept a closer eye on her. She left a trail, left notes for them to follow us. They caught up to us at the cabins, got the drop on me. There was nothing I could do but raise my hands.

Not much else to say about what happened, really. The led her away and LT shot me with that sniper rifle he always carried around with him. Tried dodging left at the last second, tried to mitigate the damage, got a chunk of my neck torn off for my troubles.

Left me there. Laid there for a while, wondering whether I should just die or try to live. Decided on the latter, for all the good it did me. l clamped a cloth over my neck and just walked until I hit a town, collapsed in the backroom bedroom of a bar and radioed Asher, told him where I was. Dubrovka. Took them a couple hours to get to me. Didn't make a difference. Lost too much blood either way. Asher didn't tell me as much when he sewed my neck up, but I could see it in his eye, and I knew it myself, as much as I didn't want to admit it. I know the stages of blood loss, slit enough throats in my time to recognize the signs.

It's cold. Only getting colder. My skin's a couple shades whiter than it usually is, and it's so fucking cold. I'm not going to make it through the night. And there's nothing any of the others can do. I'm going to die. Congratulations, LT. You did what every set of parents, every brother or sister or husband of every stupid whore I've gutted has wanted to do for years, you killed me.

I suppose this is the part where I'm supposed to regret everything that I've done, everything that's led me up to this point.

Ha. Fuck that.

I don't regret any of it. My only regret is that I wasn't able to do it longer. They all deserved it. Everyone I put a knife to fucking deserved it, and I know I fucking deserve this as well. Maybe if my mom wasn't a crack-addicted whore, maybe if my dad had decided to be a fucking dad and stick around, maybe I would have turned out differently. But this isn't a world of maybes. This is a world of what's happened, has happened. No point dwelling on the past. I know I don't. This world is a fucking God damn, God-forsaken shithole that deserves everything that's happened to it.

Come tomorrow morning, I'll be six feet under. But I left my mark on this place. I left my mark on Mallory when I carved my initials under her arm and cut those scars up and down her sides. I left my mark on Her when I carved my name on her back, my initials on her front.

I'm not going to be forgotten any time soon, I like to think.

Asher, if you're reading this, I would say don't go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, or it might get cut off. But that doesn't apply to you now, does it?

But... You were right. I should have gone with you all those weeks back. But hindsight's a bitch, isn't it? And there's no point crying over the past. If you've read this far, than yeah, I was considering selling you out if things ever got too bad for me. But that was then, and this is now. Out of everyone I've met, you're the only person who has actually understood, who has treated me as an equal, almost like family. Hell, you actually brought me into your little "Gathering" after you finished patching me up. We could have done so much shit together, and I'm sad that we aren't going to be able to.

What you can do, though, is take this journal if you want. Use it as your own, use it for information. I don't and wont give a shit because I'll be dead soon enough. But, keep doing what you're doing. Fuck this world up. Make them all hurt, tear them all apart. "We're the wolves and they're the sheep.", as you always said. So bare those fangs and taste some blood, buddy. You have got this.

I think that's all there is to say, now, really. It's getting colder no matter what now. Even under these covers I'm shivering. I wont have to worry about that for too much longer, though. Where I'm going, it's going to be plenty warm. See you all in hell. I'll be waiting.

I'm going to end this journal now. I'm going to close this book and put it on my bedside table. And then, after that, I'm going to curl up into my bed, close my eyes, and sleep forever.

Your's truly. Your's always,

-Anthony Cleese.
Prisoner number 0911092.
"The West Virginia Slasher."

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