Blackouts

“Exactly, we bleed when we’re hurt.
When you hurt your body, you bleed blood. When you hurt your soul, you bleed tears.”

-Sierra

My blackouts were called into question recently. I thought I would spend some time discussing them and pour in some lies with the truth while I was at it; see if I can bait more snakes to leap out of their pots.

I in fact… am still suffering from blackouts. They certainly aren’t as bad as they were before. When I first crawled out from the rubble and discovered I was still alive I couldn’t so much as draw my blade without putting out someone’s flame. About the time I figured out how to get back in touch the bureaucracy, I had figured out how to hold back well enough that I could stop the blackouts as long as I had not made the decision that the person I was dealing with overly deserved physical and permanent harm. Although at that point I often had to dig into my own flesh to bite back the fog.

And then along came Firecracker, a living embodiment of my failures, and the order to bring her in alive. She was, and quite frankly still is, a monster that deserved to get thrown out of the tallest building I could find. But I owed her more than that and I had my orders. Something changed after I took her down, which consequently took me cutting into nearly every square inch of my exposed skin in order to pull off. I swear I almost bled out that day and considering my condition that is quite a feat.

After that I found I had gained much greater control over myself. I no longer needed to dig into my own flesh to fight back the urges, although I will admit I still find it calming and it does still kind of help. Fracture seems to think that’s a matter of habit or a way of exerting control over my own life. I think that’s stupid personally, I’m already well in control of my own life and if I wanted to inflict violence to prove I had control I would just break Fracture’s legs again simple as that.

I think I started rambling somewhere in there.
Now I only blackout when I go to perform the actual kill and it doesn’t take as long as it did before for me to snap back to reality. Although I have found that I have a new side effect that I experience following every blackout now, the incessant Fucking crying. Every. Single. Time.

It pained me to cry for that weak fuck Nemesis. He deserved every second of his slow death and if I thought I could draw it out any longer without him dying on me I would have. I want to remember slitting his fucking throat but it hurts to try. All of them fucking hurt to try to look back on although the fucking black fucking blood thing is still by far the most painful of any blackout to try to remember anything about. I should probably mention that trying to think back on a blackout also induces fucking tears.

I swear to god I am the biggest cry baby I know.

I’m tired of talking about this shit.
Swan out.

Fear

“Hello [Deleted].”

“Every time Fracture, every single time. Can’t let it die. One of these days someone is going to hear you and I will kill you. I will fucking bleed you dry.”

“Can we just get this session started, Mr. [Deleted]?”

“Bleed you dry!”

“I’m just going to assume that’s a yes… So where are we on your old little catch phrase?”

“My catch phrase, F?”

“Yes, your catch phrase. That stupid little thing you constantly used to say to justify your emotional disconnection.”

“I don’t recall.”

“I think it went something like, ‘Attachment is a weakness’, right? ‘I don’t miss my squad, such attachment is a weakness.’ ‘I had to give up moth, such attachment is a weakness.’ ‘I’m not sorry about what happened to Picasso, concern is attachment and that would be a weakness.’ … I think my favorite was that last one. You really had to start twisting your own words to make that fit. And I think you cried over-OWOWOWOW”

“Fracture, what did I say?”“That you’d kill me?”“Yes, I will skin you. Slowly. And then feed your skin to you!”

“You’re so afraid of your secrets getting out [Deleted].You're so attached to them. It’s almost like they're a wea-OWOWOW.”

“I WILL KILL YOU.”

“Calm down.”

[About 15 minutes of growling later, Duckie finds himself back in his seat and I find myself only mildly bleeding.]
“So… does that saying still hold true?”

“…True enough.”

“How’s Ember?” [This comment was followed by Duckie throwing a chair at me.]
“I can see I hit a nerve.”

“I think I’m done with this conversation.”

“Same goes for the squad you refused to send out for the first week you had them. Are you suddenly afraid of people dying on you? That sounds like a weakness.”

“Does this have a fucking point, F?”

“I just need to know if this is an issue or not. You’re not known for adjusting well to things… especially not to your own decisions. I’m not entirely sure how but I somehow predict this will also end in blind rage and your death. I’m just worried [Deleted].”

“Blah, blah, blah, threats. I hear you, ass. Are we done?”

“I suppose.”

[At this point Duckie walked over to his closet and pulled out shovel. I… well let’s just leave it at I left.]

I can smell your fear Duckie and that means they can smell it too. Tread lightly.
Fracture out.

A Cold Blooded Killer

So that didn’t go well. Poor subject 926.
So ashamed he’s having me write this for him.

We’ve had 5 casualties so far in his effort to non-lethally subdue someone. I’ve tried to coach him through it but he has this terrible habit of not actually listening to anything I say. He just nods and then gets really mad after his mark is already good and dead. To be perfectly honest, I’m not convinced he isn’t doing it on purpose.

“I keep reflexively finishing the job.”
Much like an animal, once he gets started instincts seem to take over and somebody dies. It happens every time, and each and every time he just looks absolutely crushed about it.

First there was the teaser. He was so confident he could pull it off with a teaser. He sneaks right up behind the man without making a single sound and zap. Down goes the mark, limp on the floor. Zap, zap, zap. Subject 926 just keeps zapping the poor bastard. By the time I managed to pull Duckie off of him, the man as already very dead.

Next up he tried to subdue his mark using a marker. That seemed to be going well at first. He had his mark winded and leaning back against the wall. Much like that time though, he just didn’t stop. He keeps pounding away into this guy’s chest with the marker until it finally breaches his ribs and pierces his lung. I guess I should count my lucky starts that didn’t happen to me after I came at him with a shovel.

The bit with the gun was interesting. He claims he hasn’t used a firearm in two years but he’s a hell of a shot. The plan was to shoot his mark in the leg once. I even told him where to shoot to minimize damage as much as possible while still disabling his mark. He jumps out in front of his mark and bam. He hit her right on the bull’s-eye.  And then immediately, before she even hits the ground, proceeds to shoot her in the heart and head.

I feel personally responsible for what happened with the chloroform. I forget he doesn’t watch almost any TV. I gave him the cloth and the bottle of chloroform and told him “you just cover her mouth with it and she’ll be out like a light.” He then proceeded to put the bottle right to her mouth and force fed her the entire bottle of chloroform.

And finally there was that thing with the net. I don’t even want to talk about that one it was so terrible. I’m actually vomiting in my mouth a little right now remembering it. I mean, I spent a few years working as a doctor but that was just… and there goes the vomit all over my pants. Lovely.

“What the fucks wrong with me?”

“You’re a fucking animal, that’s what’s wrong with you.” And then I braced for a punch but it didn’t come. I looked up to find him just staring at his hands bewildered still.
“… I’m sure it’s not your fault. I bet they went through great lengths to make sure you always followed through on your kills.”

“That’s a great observation Fracture. What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

“Follow your own advice?”

“…?”

“I believe you said focus your rage so you can own and control it? You don’t have to always follow through Duckie. Just, you know, the fire and other crazy cult shit. I’m sure you can figure this out.”

That conversation happened yesterday. He spent all of today moping around deep in thought.

 I don’t think I’m going to be able to help him with this one. Control is just something he is going to have to figure out for himself I guess.

Fracture out.

A Mood Piece

I-… We…
This is fucking stupid.

I’ve been ungrounded. We’ve been driving toward ‘something’ to ‘somewhere’. Fracture got a good bruise on his arm after giving me that smug answer but I haven’t been able to get him to give me another one since. That’s not the ridiculous part though.

Fracture has me writing stuff for him to post with his account. What the hell was the point of making him a contributor if I still have to write when he posts. It’s just incredibly fucking stupid. Even now he continues to try to explain it like a broken record.

“It sets the mood. It gives context to what’s going on. Quit calling me stupid.”
He just goes on and on and on.

How’s this for mood? Did I get enough context in there for you. Stupid.

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The following took place roughly 15 minutes before departing from the motel.
I had finished packing my own personal effects and was heading out to meet subject 926 at the car. I opened the door to find 926 wasn’t at the car. He was on the walk way just outside the door staring off into the view of trees waiting for me.

“We’re heading for another test aren’t we? They still aren’t done with me yet are they? They aren’t ever going to done with me,” he said growing increasingly bitter with every word he said until he was practically growling with each word he spoke.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I’m not supposed to give 926 any indicators of whether or not the testing was done or whether or not it would ever end. In light of my orders, I suppose I did the wrong thing here.

I reached out to 926 and put a hand on his shoulder.
“… I’m sorry,” I said letting my tone tell most of what I wanted to say for me. And then after I gave that a few seconds to sink in I gave his shoulder a tight squeeze. Something I knew he would recognize as encouragement.
“You can do this. Man the fuck up.”

Only then did he start to calm down again.
After a minute of us standing there like that, he put his hand on my hand and he turned to face me. He nodded in acknowledgement… and then he slugged me hard in the face knocking me on my ass.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he said and then headed for the car.

Analysis: We should have never separated 926 completely from his peers. Subject appears to depend on support to maintain control. I suggest revaluating our long term plans for 926.

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For the record, I don’t need support. I don’t need anything.
Fracture sees what he wants to see.

Blue Eyes

God damn it.
We’ve been grounded. Or perhaps more accurately, I’ve been grounded. Fracture says we’re not allowed to go anywhere because we’re waiting on special permissions for my next assignment. They aren’t even pretending I’m being sent out for actual work anymore.

And this town is so incredibly boring. I don’t know how Fracture was able to keep cooped up in this motel room for five days without losing it. I’ve only had to stay here for one and I’m beginning to lose it. I keep going through my list checking to see if there are any other marks I could be knocking out as long as I’m stuck here but there is nobody.

I wish I could at least take comfort in my own metal health but that was ruined for me too. I figured coming out of a mental break down was going to mean I was going to be extra stable and ready to go for a little while. I’m starting to think the opposite might actually be true. Yesterday, I… I randomly broke into tear and I don’t know why. I wasn’t sad or extremely happy, nor was I tired or my eyes sore. It was fucking bizarre and I couldn’t make it stop. The thought that I was sad about something kind of made me actually sad.

I tried to talk to Fracture about it. That got me this:

“You seem to be suffering from some deep seeded emotional trauma that your conscious mind is refusing to acknowledge for one reason or another.”

“Umm… ok then? How do I fix it?”

And then he went silent on me. He’s so incredibly fucking useless. What good does it do me to just identify the problem if you can’t fucking fix it?

And you know I could have taken all of this in strife without a word. I normally wouldn’t need a vent. But Fracture has there terrible fucking habit of singing following a session. I can hear him passively spewing out lyrics to some song as he sits there going through his notes. Most of the songs seem to tie back to whatever our discussion was about but I’m stumped on this one.

“Blue eyes, blue eyes, what’s a matter, matter…”

I don’t fucking have blue eyes. I can’t fucking take this.
I think… I think I’m going to go beat him with a marker. I hate to prove him right but I need to shut him up.

I Thought I was Better Prepared for This

Designated ‘Fracture’ here reporting to proxy ‘Whisper’ and associated underlings. We have a problem.

Subject 926 returned from his assignment a few nights back in a huff. He came in, threw a bag full of canned foods on the floor, sat down in the chair, posted his report, and then just sat there staring at a wall. It occurred to me that something was wrong after he hadn’t moved for three hours.

I started talking at him trying to coach him through whatever the hell was wrong with him but he didn’t seem to be listening. He just continued to sit there. At some point I realized his lips were moving though. So I leaned in to see if he was actually saying something.

“La, la la….”

That probably wasn’t a good sign. I was short on options in the way of trying to help him. Therapy does you a fat lot of good when you refuse to listen. So I started reading off updates from some of the other blogs hopping something would grab his attention and give me what I needed to get through to him. He didn’t really respond to most of it until I hit Beneath Stone Skies. I got about midway through the entry when he sprang up, took the laptop back from me, and posted his little comment.

He still wasn’t listening though. After that he sat right back down and continued to ignore me… kind of. He continued to ignore me but he didn’t stay in his seat long. He started roaming around the motel room. He was seated for about 5 minutes, got up and listened to his radio for about 5 minutes, watched 5 minutes of TV, started cutting up the mattresses for about 5 minutes….

And he’s been going on like that for about a day now and is still ignoring me. He looks like shit as I’m not sure he slept or ate in that time. I’m pretty sure he’s having some sort of mental breakdown which is something we anticipated. I was unable to anticipate just how incredibly resistant to help he was going to be. I need to get through to him.

I think back on it and the only thing that really had any effect on him was the Stone Skies post and I believe that’s because it pissed him off. It kind of gives me an idea on how I might get through to him but I really don’t want to do it. I’m probably going to have to but I intend to stave that particular option off as a last resort until I absolutely have to.

Report over, ‘Fracture’ out.

Please Don't Encourage Him

Seriously, the last thing I need is you assholes egging on that violent sociopath. I shouldn’t even be here. Subject 0926 should have been executed for half the shit he did. The rest of his traitorous deeds should have merited him getting his skin peeled off first, but at this point I would just settle for him being put out of my misery.

Oh, Fracture here by the way. That’s probably important. I’m posting on behalf of my host, stupid “ugly fuck”. Captain ass hat is out chasing his mark. I need to finish this before he comes home and notices I’m posting on his stupid little blog and breaks my ribs or something. He tells me he’s been eyeing the third one down on the left side which is incredibly fucking peachy.

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Subject 0926 Early Assessment
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0926 suffers from a marinade of personality disorders. Recent developments seem to imply that list of disorders is ever increasing.

Old Issues
Subject is extremely paranoid of those around him. He is paranoid to such an extreme degree that you cannot sit within arm’s length or make eye contact without getting slugged or worse.
 Subject is constantly on the defensive and never seems to take any downtime. I have a hard time keeping track of whether or not he is still in the house. He does not make noises when he moves. When I have seen him home, he comes in and immediately plops down on the bed. If he isn’t sleeping, he’s on this computer or eating.
Even his sleeping habits seem to exhibit a constant defensive state of paranoia as he does not sleep for more then 2-3 hours at a time. When he comes out of his sleep he literally jumps to his feet with his knife in hand braced for a fight. I find myself paralyzed when he does this. I fear movement may draw his knife to me.
Further defensive behavior is prominent in the way the subject handles our therapy sessions together. He sits there for the full hour and stares at me. At times his attention seems to be drawn to my chest. I think he is eyeing my rib. More progress is actually made in the 15 minutes following a session.

New Issues
Identity :
I don’t know who this man is. He certainly doesn’t look like subject 0926. 0926 was covered in scars from head to toe, the worst of which were on his face. This man’s skin is almost flawless. I was still unconvinced of his identity until I had spent time with him these last two days. He acts like 0926, he remembers 0926’s life, and seems to believe he is 0926. Regardless of who he may actually be, I must work under the assumption that he is 0926.

Death/Delusions of Grandeur :
Working under the assumption that this is actually 0926, I find it hard to believe he actually died. I find his explanation for his resurrection even more suspect. The subject claims that ‘the master’ not only killed him, which is the one part I would actually believe, but then immediately brought him back from the dead. When I asked him why, he explained with an analogy about breaking the bones of a cat.
“If you kill a cat it’s dead. It can’t be punished. But if you keep it alive you can make it scream and suffer. You can take your time and break every little bone in its little body. When the master was done killing me he decided I hadn’t suffered enough.”
The issue here is he believes the slender man cares enough to pull this kind of thing off. On some level he must understand how grand a claim this is.

Hallucinations :
Another reason I have a hard time believing this is really 0926 is how forth coming he has become. I caught him staring at a wall nodding his head. When I asked him what he was doing he explained he was listening to the children sing.
Me : “What children?”
Duck : “The children, the ones who are always singing. La, la la, la la, la la. La, la la, la la, la.”
He apparently suffers from auditory hallucinations. He claims it’s constantly in the background, that is gets quieter and louder but it’s always there. He’s says he’s jealous of other people because their hallucinations are more fun. They see things or hear screaming.
“I just hear them singing.”
I tried to ask him more questions about it but I seem to have lost him entirely for a little bit there.
“La, la la…”

Schizophrenia :
I’m unsure of this one but the condition lends itself to paranoia, delusions of grandeur, and hallucinations. The concern here is that this condition can be purely mental in nature but it can also stem from the brain decaying. He is going to need to have himself tested to determine if this needs to be treated.

Blackouts :
The subject has been suffering from blackouts. The trigger for this is apparently the act of killing. Be blames the slender man for this claiming this condition was inflicted on him in an effort to punish him for his disobedience. I believe the onset of this condition is what the subject was referring to when he originally reported in claiming his one love had been stolen from him following his ‘death’.
Given the fact that blacking out does not stop him from carrying out his kill effectively, I believe this condition is dissociative in nature. I believe the act of killing weighs far heavier on the subject then he lets on and when forced to face his own mortality following his own ‘death’ he disconnected himself from this part of his life.

Final Assessment
Is unchanged. The subject is still a dangerous sociopath and he’s going to kill me. Please for the love of god let me go home. Kill this man and be done with it.
Assuming that’s not going to happen though, he needs various brain scans and regular therapy sessions from someone else. He was gotten significantly worse since I first assessed him four years back and I have no reason to assume he will get any better.
I would also like it if we could confirm if this is really subject 0926. I am unconvinced.

There we go. I’m all done, yay done.
Typing with a cast on is draining. I’m going to go take a nap before captain ass hat gets back. I’m going to need my strength for when he sees this and comes after my ribs.