Control/Damien's Notebook: Entry 8

So much has changed in the past few days. Far more than I could have ever thought possible.

My parents are still out of work. Mom called me this morning. She asked me again about how I was coping after Brett, about how well my book deal was coming along. I had to lie to her yet another time. I can't tell her the truth. I can't let her know the mess her son is in. Just like her husband, she's going to lose another because of their cursed writing. I told her everything was fine, that I was taking care of things, that I was almost done with the book. She believed me, asked me to come visit again later this week. I'm hoping to have time, but with everything that's been happening, I just don't know.

And then the police held a damn press conference saying they've officially tied together seven different murders in that cursed town, including the mayor's death last month, to a single source. They claim to have suspects, but they aren't revealing any names. I have no idea what's going to happen now over there. I have my suspicions as to who's doing this, but I don't want to get involved. I have enough to deal with as it is.

The situation with Judith has been spotty at best. Every time I think she's getting better, she relapses and starts texting me constantly about the notebook. Two days ago she appeared on my doorstep, demanding to see it. I was able to get the situation under control, and talked her into just going out for dinner instead. Still, even at the restaurant she was totally preoccupied with the journal. I tried to remind her about what she'd been reading, about what she did when she realized it and broke down crying in my arms.

She told me she didn't ever remember doing so.

Now, I finish transcribing an entry and log in to post it, only to see this comment. With those words, I felt like I woke up for the first time from a nightmare. I don't know how long I've been talking so much about "control". I don't know how long I've been having the dreams and not remembering them, but I remember them now. It certainly didn't fucking help when I finally noticed the similar comments on the post about my family, which I don't remember ever seeing before.

You see, since I started this cursed blog, I've been having the same dream every night. I just never remembered them after waking up. Each night, I'd dream about being on a stage, writing in front of a crowd of millions. After some time, I would notice that there was something black tied around my wrists. I'd look up, following the great, dark strings and towering above me was the man. I'd scream, try to jerk away, but he'd keep making me write. When I was finally done, he'd pick up the book in one of his black tendrils and hold it in front of his face as if he was able to read it. Then, a sound of delight, a pain in my hands, a downpour of red, and I would awaken... Awaken and forget.

It's been controlling me. This entire time he's been controlling me and my subconscious has been screaming in my dreams and in my writings and only now do I understand. He wants the story out. He wants the story told. He wants everyone to know of him... And he's using me to do it.

I'm burning the notebook tonight, or burying it, or something. I don't know yet. I have no fucking idea.

I still have this final entry to post and then... then I get rid of this thing for good.

---


"(No date)

Tree. A red oozy tree. Like it had a bunch of owwies spilling syrup all over. And it had eyes. Trees dont have eyes but this one did and blood and it made my head feel funny. The no face man made it feel funny too but this time it really really hurt. I heard all these voices like they were yelling at me but they weren't yelling at me because they were in my head and it was really weird. They wouldn't be quiet and just kept yelling bad things over and over. Said they all get hurt like this hurt and I don't want Ted and Em to hurt like this so I think they were wrong.

And the blood was all over. I looked up and there was people up in the tree and I think they were dead. There was a guy with metal in his face and a girl with curly fire hair and a boy with glasses and hair like a bush was holding her hand and a guy was hanging with a slimy rope around his head. All dead, dead people like in the dungeon with the no face man.

And then my head started hurting even more but not the voices because those went away it just hurt a lot like the worst pain ever and it hurt so much. I don't ever want to go back in the woods if it hurts like that. Its dark and spiders and no face men and dead people and trees with eyes and crawling green things and blood and guts and fog and I don't want to see it again or get hurt again so I'm never going back in the woods."