Day 1:

I can’t deal with empty hallways, dark rooms, silent places. It’s instinctive, maybe a phobia. Whatever it is, it’s a nuisance. I’m alone, my parents left yesterday and dealing with my house at night is getting pretty annoying, it’s too quiet, I feel exposed, maybe it’s just my 16 year old brain suffering due to lack of human contact and abundance of bad horror films.

Maybe I’m just crazy, but that creaking, the movement from next door is very easy to confuse with actual movement. Sometimes I hear an intrusive rasping, breaking the silence and leading my mind to dark places. The boiler isn’t what it was back then. I shouldn't be this scared, it’s daytime, I’ll just go see Jack.

Night 1:

Another day, I tell you when college rolls around I’ll be freaking ecstatic, I’ll be able to hang around with people other than them, them being my friends. Who by the way are getting SOO boring, I don’t see them for a month because of a rugby concussion and while I've been gone they've apparently spent their time sniffing glue,getting progressively more dull, stupid. It’s not fun anymore, Jack even forced me out of his house tonight, after a whole day of being friendly (In a retarded kind of way) he just, kicks me out at midnight, the indecisive asshole.

Day 2:

I can hear my own heartbeat, I can hear the insects scuttling in the wall cavety, I can hear every creak in this God-forsaken house, but the one thing I’m missing is human contact. My neighbors have jobs and so I’m left here without even hearing someone speak through these paper thin walls. Even when I go outside to see friends, enjoy the longest summer I’ve ever had the pleasure to enjoy, my mind is perpetually drawn back to this place, its walls, the basement, my room, how the light in here is muted It's strange.

I can’t even remember what living here with other people was like anymore.

Night 2:

Bored of the internet, going for a walk, I haven’t gone for a walk in too long, who knows what’ll happen? I hope I see a dog walker or something, I need to have a chat and dogs are cute.

Day 3:

I didn’t leave the house today, I’m tired of my friends, their inconsistency, their flaws, their tendency to make shit up about me, what I said or whatever.. I’m quite happy here, writing, listening to music.

It’s intoxicating, being alone, I don’t mind the dark anymore, in fact the nights are the best time, I don’t know why, some unknown factor that makes me feel…Real, alert.

Night 3:

I just looked back at all that, and apparently I don’t know what I’m talking about, this place is DULL. I need to get out, I want to see my friends more than anything else.

Maybe I should sleep, get away from tonight, kill the time before I can GTFO, my parents are due back tomorrow anyway so this works out fine...

Ok, maybe sleep was too much to ask for, I’ll just sleep in tomorrow, besides, they're getting back late.

Day 4:

Urgh, why did I sleep in? The diary says I stayed up. And who am I to argue? Maybe I was just too bored to take anything in but still, this is weird, I can usually at least remember what I did yesterday, even if it was nothing, maybe it’s a side effect of the concussion, It’s never been like this. I need my parents to come back, I’m gonna play some video games while I wait for them, post later tonight, goodnight diary, enjoy... I don't know, my words.

Night 4:

The neighbours just won’t fucking SHUT UP will they? Seriously, I’m going over to talk to them.

Day 5:

Ok what? I don't remember making that post either, I'm so freaking ditsy sometimes. I even left the ground floor window open all night, woke to the sounds of the house creaking, and a certain...discontent feeling in my stomach, like something was wrong. I've seen enough horror to know where THIS is going, i'm spending the night at my friends. The melancholy and poetic bullshit has fallen off like a ski-


Night 5:

My friend kicked me out, it’s ok though, what friend of mine can’t take a freaking joke? I joked around, it scared his sister, so what? I don’t need him anyway, I’m gonna clean up the basement tonight, it needs to be done sometime right?

Day 6:

I woke up at home, I can’t even REMEMBER last night, why the FUCK is there a post up? It’s got to be the concussion, but I’m not like that, why would I threaten anyone? Oh God.

I’m going to check my basement.

They’re dead. My mum, has a fucking cleaver lodged in her skull. My dad is basically ALL OVER THE PLACE. Oh God, they were in the boxes, they’d been hidden, mixed in with each other's remains, across three boxes, I didn’t even look in the other boxes, the smell down there told me enough. The worst thing is I know who did it. Even if I can’t remember it. They must have gotten back sometime in the night.

They won’t believe me, it was HIM, I did nothing! I'm a good kid, I don't even MASTURBATE for fuck's sake, I'd rather slit my wrists than... I just threw up, on the keyboard, perfect. I’ll be found out, I’m running away, for fuck's sake I had a life, I had plans, and he took it. He took them.

Oh my God, he’s coming, I can feel it.