Blood and Water

March 21^st

Dear Diary,

Dear God, what the hell am I doing? I’ve never written in one of these things before, I have no idea what to even say. Well, I suppose I better write something, otherwise Mary might get suspicious. Mary is my wife – I don’t know why I’m saying that, after all this book is meant to be for my eyes and my eyes alone. I guess it just feels better to write it down, since recently she hasn’t seemed like my wife, not the same fun-loving laid-back girl I met at seventeen in the slightest. No, she’s too obsessed with the cult.

It’s strange to think it’s been only a week since we moved in with them, leaving all our material possessions behind. I must look like a weak man, to up route my whole lifestyle and travel hundreds of miles to the middle of nowhere to live with some fairy-tale-believing, nonsensical, ridiculous superstitious maniacs. Hey, the things we do for love, I guess. Honestly, I’d hoped she’d get a look at the whole thing and realise how crazy she’s being. For God’s sake Mary, they all wear weird white or blue robes! Yeah, she’s been on the forums for over a year now, but it was harmless back then. Now we’re here and I fear being around these lunatics has only strengthened her resolve.

I miss my life. I miss my nice house and my bed and my midrange car and my shitty 9-5 job. I miss being able to go out after work with the guys and grab a few beers. Nobody drinks here, except that loopy juice that I daren’t go anywhere near. I’m sure there’s more to say, but I can hear Mary coming back so I better rap this up. She’s down the hall talking about some bloke named Zyprexa – whoever that is.

April 15^th

Dear Diary,

This is the first chance I’ve had enough free time to get any writing done, and I fear that this session will be yet another which comes to a premature end. I don’t hear anyone close by but I’m a slow writer and I have so much to tell. I’ve seen strange things these last few weeks, enough to shock a man to his core. I now know why they take all electronics off you when you come here – it’s so you can’t record what they do, so that it doesn’t get out. It was dark when I first saw it and I chose not to believe my own eyes, but I’ve been snooping around enough and seen it so many times that I can no longer deny its existence. There’s a large stone basin and they fill it with blood. I don’t know who they are exactly, but it seems to be a chosen few from amongst the cult. I wasn’t even supposed to see what they did, and I wish I was never there, but I heard their strange chanting and…

           I don’t know how to even write this, the thought of it sends shivers down my spine. Maybe I’m hallucinating…yes, that must be it. I’ve been away from regular civilisation so long that I’m going loopy, seeing things. You know what? I’m glad they gave me this thing to write in, even just thinking about the words to put to paper has made me realise how insane I’ve been. I’m going to find Mary, maybe convince her to come home with me, if the cult will even let us leave. Hopefully when I write here next, I’ll be in my garden drinking wine back home where I belong.

May 2^nd

Dear Diary,

I definitely wasn’t hallucinating! All the things I feared to be true have now come to light. Mary was spending an awful lot of time with one of the higher-ups who calls himself Asher. Honestly, my mind went immediately towards an affair, after all she’s been acting so differently lately. I wanted proof so I followed the man, and I watched from beneath a table as he and the others once more performed that gruesome ritual. The blood…it congealed, and then it moved. It was what I thought I’d seen before in passing, though now I believe it without a doubt. It moved on its own without anyone touching it, then it took the shape of a man and the man had my face! It shimmered like water and then I swear it stared at me. I came out when everyone was gone, and the blood monster was nowhere to be found – I wonder if this is the Zyprexa they were all talking about. I hope it hasn’t gotten out.

           I think they’re onto me. Until not long ago they let me wear my own clothes, though now they’ve forced me into the robes and not even nice ones either. Mine have a rip in the back and I feel like they’re all laughing at me every time I walk through the halls. I’ve looked for the blood monster on occasion, but I can’t find even a drop. This place is so immaculately clean that it’s creepy – it’s like they’re afraid of even one spec of dirt. All I hope is that Mary isn’t part of this.

July 9^th

Dear Diary,

I feel so betrayed. I had hoped that Mary wasn’t a part of any of this, even after she tried to force me to drink that loopy juice. But I was wrong, so incredibly wrong. She came to our room last night after spending yet more time with this Asher person, and she had a glass of the strange fluid in her hand. She said she wanted to help me see the light and I realised they’ve brainwashed her too, like they have all the others. Left and right I see them doing drugs, popping pills which make them more susceptible to the cult. Still, I tried to ignore it, but when I last followed Asher to one of his horrible blood rituals, I saw Mary there too. She had blood on her wrists already and I knew then that she was too far gone. I love her so much, but I no longer think I can save her.

           I originally intended this diary to be my own personal account of the cult, though now I realise I need to get this out somehow. Somebody needs to find this, so the rest of the world knows what the cult is up to and to never come here under any circumstances. I tried to make my way out of the grounds yesterday, but they caught me and brought me back to my room. I was under the impression we could leave here whenever wanted though now I realise I’m a prisoner. There’s another building next to this one that I think I can access from the roof; tonight is the night. Whether I make it out or not, whoever finds this book I beg you to go to the police with this. These sick people cannot be allowed to continue what they’re doing.

July 30^th

Dear Diary,

This is Mary. It’s taken me so long to bring myself to write in this book, but my therapist says it’ll help. John, my husband, was found dead on the night of July 9^th after I returned to his room to find him gone. He tried to jump from the roof of his building to that of the A&E building next door. I’ve read his words every night for three weeks now and every time it brings me to tears. I knew that John was having delusions, but I didn’t expect they were this bad. Doctor Asher told me to keep a close eye on him though I feel like everyone, including myself, has failed him.

           I tried to convince myself that he was alright, though now I know he wasn’t taking his medicine. I knew he’d never go for pills, he always hated them even before the delusions started, so I crushed them up in his water but it seems he was one step ahead of me. This Zyprexa monster he kept raving about in this book was actually a form of medication to treat his schizophrenic episodes, and without it he fell further and further into his own subconscious – at least that’s what Doctor Asher says. I should’ve known there was something wrong when I’d find him in reception, just staring unblinkingly into the charity wishing fountain as if he was petrified of his own reflection.

           I think catching me self-harming was what pushed him over the edge – he always hated such things and I don’t even know why I did it, I just felt so helpless. That’s it, he’s gone, and if I write any more, I’ll no doubt soak the pages with tears. Farewell.

                                                                                                                                   Mary