We're Going to Disney World!

Or rather, we did. Met up with Rachael today-she suggested it as a good opportunity to do something for Em, and as the poor kid certainly needs all the cheering up she can get, it struck me as a good idea.

One day, spent in the Magic Kingdom, with a six year old. We spent all day running about, trying to see and do everything. Emily, of course, took to Rach like she's taken to all of my friends she's met-enthusiastically and loudly.

Would've been a nice, peaceful day, except for two fucking things.
The first happened around 2 or so, we'd just done fucking Splash Mountain, and Emily wanted the picture. For those of you who don't know, at the top of the big fuckoff hill at the end of Splash Mountain, there's a camera set up to take your picture right before you go over. They sell the pictures at the exit of the ride.
Em wanted a copy, so we went to get it-and got a little more than we bargained for.

The entire right side of the picture was distorted all to hell. Looks like slendershit was nearby. And worse, when I got the copy of the picture (figured maybe it was just the monitor since they didn't seem bothered by it), it came with a threatening note.

"Mock me all you want, but I won't just watch forever."

Still a little trite, and yes the 'o's were all replaced with operator symbols, but the fact that they could slip the note /into/ the frame with the picture means this isn't just some idiot amateur. The fact that only our picture was distorted... Well, that means he showed up just for us. How nice.

The other thing was the chat I had with Rach, while Elliott and Em watched the fireworks. She'd been... wobbly, for lack of a better term, all day. Looked a little glassy eyed, was a little slow to react to things. Barely noticeable, especially considering how bright and happy she seemed, playing with Em and seeing us. It's such a fucking radical change from the quiet, demure, sad proxy I stayed with back in August.

But I was right. Something's wrong. She's pretty badly injured. Been shot a couple times, and has a burn on her arm from the New Years party. I only got to see her arm, but that, at least, was infected enough to look really bad. I'm fucking worried about her.

Nothing I can do, though. I offered the little help I can give, and she told me not to worry, she has a plan. So, hopefully that works out.

As for us? We're long gone by now. Gotta keep fucking moving, after all.

Doing This Shit Out of Order

Right. I owe you all one hell of a post. I'd intended to go through and write about everything that happened since... since I last posted something actually informative. But honestly, I don't really want to write about the time I spent curled up in my bed, not moving for days at a time. I don't want to relive it, and it's really none of your business, you fuckers. The important part is Friday. Last Friday when Elliott came to me and told me that we needed to get out of there, the forest was going too far. To be honest, I'd hardly noticed anything strange, barely looked out the window.
But again, not the point.
The point is, we were in the middle of discussing the need to get out of there-and had just decided to leave first thing in the morning-when a certain redheaded bastard made his appearance. Just leaning nonchalantly against the wall like he had a right to be there. The rotten cunt.
I made the mistake of challenging him. Thought that perhaps out of the forest he'd stand and fight, but no. Instead of facing me like a man he used his Loop bullshit to threaten Elliott. They talked for a bit. In French. All I could understand was some swearing, something about Richard, and something about Harper. Then he threatened Em. In English, so I could understand.
I told Elliott to get out and check on her, which he did. I continued to challenge him, he continued to be a smug, cheating twat. And then he made a mistake. Decided he'd try to get under my skin. Didn't fucking work though, did it? The fucking lying bastard is going to meet his match one of these days and I sincerely hope I'm the one who gets to do the honors. The things he said and did... Well, I will see him pay, one way or another.

Right. On to less ominous business. We're on the road again. Met up with Richard again last night. I didn't stick around to see what happened. He made it pretty clear he didn't want me there. More travelling ahead, I think there's one more place Elliott wants to go.

Apologies and Eulogies

Well, it's Elaine again. I'm still alive, I'm doing just fine, and back more or less to normal.

I really just want to start all of this off by apologizing for a certain stupid thing I did. It was selfish of me to try to remove myself from all of this without thinking about those of you I'd be leaving behind. Most of you I've talked to one way or another to apologize to more directly, but I feel like I should say something here. According to Blogger, a lot of people read this fucking blog. Probably at least some of you are looking for guidance, just like I was, back when I started. I don't want my story to end with such a cop-out.
All of you reading this deserve more from me, and honestly, I don't really feel like giving up yet. There's a lot of fighting left for me to do before I get my rest, and I intend to make slendershit crazy trying to take me out.

It was just grief. Grief for everyone we've lost recently. Starting with the fall of Hope, I lost eight of the people nearest and dearest to me over the course of a week. As I've said in the past, I'm nothing fancy with words or feelings, but I feel like I ought to say something for everyone that's gone.

The Johnsons. Their blood is directly on my hands. The family came to Hope because it was the only chance they had left. When they arrived they'd lost everything but each other, and were managing to hold strong and raise their daughter well.
But they had too much faith in me. They said the safest place in the world for them was at my side, in Hope, even without special protection. Jennifer, Levi, and poor little Adam. They were a loving, close knit family, and they deserved better than what they got.  Elliott and I are taking care of their daughter. Emily is only six, but she's amazing. I hope we can raise her right and keep her safe.

Michael. Or perhaps I should call him Nemo? He were more himself before he took his name back. He was a dear friend to me, even when he was going mad. Down underneath the protective layer of douchebaggery was the kind and thoughtful man I came to know when he first came to Hope. I miss him a lot, and I will always regret that I couldn't help him when he came to me in the end.

Konaa. He was a hell of a brave, crazy kid. No, man. I called him a kid, but his actions proved himself to be one hell of a good man. He was another of the best of us. Noble, tenacious, kind. He never gave a crap about himself, he was always fighting for us. He never killed, never even harmed anyone unless he absolutely had to. He was a good friend and a good man. He will be missed by all. He died as he lived-standing for what he believed in.

Lucas. He was by far one of the best, kindest men I've ever had the good fortune to know. He helped me through a lot of shit right until the end. He was also the first other Stalked I really got in touch with when shit hit the fan, which made him... one of my oldest friends. The world has lost something, losing him.

Joel. He and I were close as well. Lucas and Joel were, for a while, a bright shiny example of true love in the face of adversity. Then he was taken by his Wolf. But he refused to give up. He fought his way back out for the man he loved. He shouldn't be remembered by his final actions, but as a man who did anything and everything to protect the man he loved.

Josh. He was a hell of a kid. Would've really been somebody if he'd gotten a chance to grow up and actually do things, instead of run from a faceless fuck in a suit.  I didn't get to know him quite as well as the others, but I knew him well enough to miss him now.

I'll try to get something up in the next few days talking about what's been going on with me.

Death and Hospitals

Before I do anything else, I want to remember Morningstar.

Look, I know a lot of you never liked him, never trusted him. A lot of you were convinced he'd never change. Some of you were convinced that even if he did, he needed to die for his crimes.

Those people clearly never saw him like I did.

He had a big reputation, considering his knack for cartoonish violence and his... interesting eating habits. And, you know, I'm not going to bother arguing about that. Because, yeah, he was bad. He was pretty terrible. He killed a lot of people, did a lot of terrible things.

But, we've all seen the difference now. The clear distinction between Star being free and Star as a hallowed. The evidence is right there on the blog. The creativity, the personality? That was always him. The cruelty, the lack of regard for people? That was not.

So, for the record. The Star that killed people by tying them to railroad tracks or trapping them in mazes of death? That's not the man I'm mourning today.

The Star I'm mourning is the one I introduced you all to. The one who held me while I cried. The one who risked everything to get me out of a bad situation, the one who gave up everything he had to try and find a way to live as a runner.
The Star who still cried about his brother, and who never stopped hurting and doubting himself after the abuse of his parents.
The Star who loved hugs and who hated to see me hurt, and who was such a complete softie that he literally tucked me in and sat by my bedside, that last day, because he saw the pain I was in.
I loved him like the brother I lost so long ago. I just wanted to keep him safe, to give him the chance to chose for himself for the first time in his entire fucking life.
I had hoped that even if he died from this, he would die a free man.

It seems that thanks to a certain proxy in denial, this was not to be. Mitch, I can't bring myself to wish horrible tortures on you, because those are inevitable now. Know that by succumbing to this you have failed Ryuu, your family, and yourself. Know that being robbed of that kill will haunt you for the rest of your life-as short as that will be, now, even without my interference, and that I rejoice in that fact.
I will not waste my time seeking revenge, because that won't bring him back. He wouldn't want me to, and so I will respect that. But I will dance on your grave when you meet your inevitable horrible fate.



That said, I'm out of the hospital now-though that was a story that I owe it to you all to share.

Considering the events of the past few days-and my complete inability to share them with non-Stalked in a way that makes sense, the doctors have become increasingly suspicious of my mental health. After all, I've spent the past month and change at the mercy of my kidnapper/rapist, right? (And yes, that's what they think happened with Jake and I'm certainly not going to tell them the truth).
I've been doing what I can to convince them otherwise, but that's very difficult when you're terrified and grieving.
Yesterday after the news about Konaa I flipped so much shit I... may have punched a nurse that came to check on me. Not hard enough to do any damage, but hard enough to scare her.
They sedated me. Knocked me right the fuck out. After I specifically informed them on day one that I didn't care what they had to do, I would be awake for it. Refused to sign anything that gave them the right to do so.
This morning they made me go through a psych evaluation-they were trying to get me sent to the psychiatric ward for my trauma.
I passed the evaluation with flying colors, then proceeded to make a huge stink about patients rights and legality and how I had just gotten the news that my dear friend had died and it was simply purely reasonable grief that I had been suffering and how they were all assholes that I was going to sue the pants off of if they did not discharge me.
Funny, it took maaaaybe two hours after that before I was walking out the door.

So, I'm on the road again, this time with a specific destination in mind. No more mad wandering, no more letting fear get the best of me. Shaun's right. I have to live. For all of them that aren't anymore.

Not the End

He's awake! He's him again! He doesn't remember the past week and a half but it doesn't matter because he's back to his old fucking self.

I woke up this morning just like usual. Four hours, alarm, but Star was strangely jumpy so I commented on it. I didn't expect a response, but I got one all the same. He was understandably confused, but he's awake.
Talked me into going back to bed once I let slip how little I've been sleeping. I woke up not too long ago. Just wanted to put something up quick to tell you that he is alive and well and still very much the man I know, reformed and all.

Still Alive

Still running.
Stopped at a motel for a few hours last night when I hit the point where if I tried to keep driving I'd get into a wreck. We're stopped for food at the moment-we both need to eat if we want to be in good enough shape to beat this.
Star's seen some minor improvement. He'll walk on his own-he follows me around, honestly. He takes basic instructions, which makes my life a lot easier. I'm hoping this means he's honestly improving.
You all have reason to hate him, but for fuck's sake, slendershit hunted him down in the one place he thought he'd be safe and turned him into... this. Just. Empty. Blank.
Until... like eight or so last night he couldn't even move. I had to carry him.

I don't know what exactly has been done, but I do know that it must be absolute hell.
He had the option to return. But he didn't take it. He chose to stay, to deal with the consequences.
Does anyone still doubt his sincerity? Or even how deserving he is?

He's just a kid, guys. The same age my little brother would've been. Just a scared, abused kid who eight months ago hadn't done a damn thing wrong. Before he got roped into the proxies his only crime was lashing out at his captors. He was scared and alone and I just wanted to fucking help him because no one else seemed to really want to try.

And now Spence is dying and Writer's on their blog and Doc's trying to save his life running on adrenaline and  amphetamines.

I haven't been this scared since Prosper was in my apartment. I don't know what to do.