Day 1: My husband came home with a robe today. It seems like it’s made of silk. I slept in it until it was gone in the morning.
Day 2: Today my husband was quicker to anger than usual. I asked him why our coffee maker wasn’t broken, then he felt attacked. He screamed in anger before taking a deep breath and watching TV.
Day 3: I did laundry today and found the robe again. It had engravings written on it. My husband walked up to me and grabbed it without hesitation.
Day 4: My husband talked about weird murder tactics. Usually involving pigs or sacrifice. I am becoming worried.
Day 7: My husband found my journal and took to away before screaming and lecturing me. He kept taling about how he had nothing to hide and that I was being paranoid. He ranted about keeping secrets and said he felt betrayed. I’m honestly scared. I found my journal again. Half of the cover is ripped off and has more engravings.
Day 8: I doubt that I can figure out my husband’s behavior. I think he is just going through a stressful situation. After doing laundry, I found a knife with identical markings etched into the handle. I studied the markings. They mean different things. They usually have a tie to a form of sacrifice.
Day 9: I am afraid. My husband is acting really sweet. I think he is trying to butter me up. I don’t know what he wants me to do for him. I hope I realize that I should mind my own business and stop praying into my husband’s life. I should never EVER disrespect his beliefs.
Day 14: My husband found my journal again. I was writing and he snatched it. I got locked inside for the past few days. All windows are replaced with boards. Sharp objects are gone. Anything I could’ve used to escape has been removed or made inaccessible. All I have it the TV and my journal.
Day 15: The power went out. The electric bill was overdue I assume. All I have in this dark house is my thoughts and my journal
Day 16: A strange robed man visited me and told me that I was holy and meant for a better purpose than mortal life.
Day 17: I’m supposed to leave the house and be taken to a sacrifice today. I don’t know what to do. I will leave this journal.
Day 23: I escaped. I don’t know what to do other than run. I found my journal and snatched it before I ran.
Day 24: I’m hiding in the house. It’s the safest place I can think of. I can hear the rats pittering and pattering in the walls. The squeaks of the house. The sound of the outside world.
Day 25: I accidentally was spotted. They are now hunting for me. Luckily I have crawlspaces in the walls to hide.
Day 26: My crawlspaces worked. I was able to hide from the robed men. The houses is now locked from the outside. Nobody will ever get it. I am getting very hungry though. I may have to eat a rat to survive.
Day 27: I can’t take this anymore. The rat feces is awful. I still hear people muttering. The roaches have found me. I am covered in spider and roach bites. I have resorted to eating every roach and rat I find.
Day 28: I have no contact with anyone else. I can hear them outside. They are trying to coax me out. Forcing my hand is not a good thing to do. I can’t stand this stress and fear.
Day 29: I’m out of rats. I ate them into extinction. The roach numbers are dying too. Canned foods aren’t safe to grab. They could spot me through the board cracks. They could barge in and take me away. I can’t live like this anymore.
Day 30: I give up. I have to surrender. I ate every roach, scrap of food, and rat in my house. I will surrender to them tomorrow.
Day 31: I am turning myself in. In two hours, I will give up. I can’t stand this anymore. I might as well believe them. Maybe I am destined for more.
Updated Section:
Day 1: I need to stop these nightmares. Last night I dreamt that I was killed and sacrificed to a higher being of sorts. My husband isn’t here either. Reckon, I hear no man made sounds.
Day 2: I don’t think it was a dream, there is no evidence of civilization other than my house. The world outside is non-existent.
Day 3: I know the truth now. It wasn’t a dream. I am in a state of being beyond life. I still don’t know where I am. I can’t tell if I’m in Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, Asphodel, or something inbetween.
Day 4: I send to the world, a final attempt of contact. A digital record of this journal. I hope someone finds this.