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.

Holy Fuck, Please No

I'm still in the hospital. Recovering. They're talking about letting me out soon. Which is nice, and I'll be glad for that.

But. Priorities.

Mitch has Star. Mitch has Star and she's going to kill him and I'm stuck in a hospital bed unable to do anything but beg. I'm. I'm begging you for help. Anyone who can see this. Nick? TMV? She likes you, she listens to you. Please, just... anyone who might be able to get through to her, please. Say something. Talk to her. Help me help him. Please. He's gone mad but there's no saying he'll never be able to come back. Please.

He's just a kid, guys. Please help me help him.

Mitch, if you're reading this. I'm begging you, please. Don't do this.

For the Latest News...

Try This

You were right. You were all fucking right.
He's gone.
He'sgone, he's gone, he's gone.
He took first watch.
I woke up to him screaming and flailing and running out of the room. I tried to chase him, but he got away.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

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.

A Visit

As much as I hesitate to do it, I am trying to stop and catch a couple hours of sleep every night. I thought I was being pretty damn secretive about my location, especially considering even I wasn't sure where I was going. I was just... going. Just driving to drive. Theoretically, no one should have been able to predict where I was going because I didn't have the slightest clue where I was going from day to day.

And yet, last night there was a knock on our door. I literally dropped my laptop in shock. When I looked through the peephole, even more shock kicked in. It was David. Ronan's David. The same David who gave me this lovely scar on my shoulder I need to find the time to get a tattoo for. The same one that killed Donovan's family and kidnapped and tortured Dia. And he just knocked pleasantly on my hotel room door. The thing that everyone mentions to the point that it gets repetitive is how normal he looks.
It's jarring. To look at this pleasant, smiling middle aged man and remember all of the terrible things he's done. Even worse when you're running on little to no sleep for a week solid and you've got basically dead weight to protect asleep in the bed, and you're wondering what the fuck he wants to do to you both.

I didn't answer. He proceeded to inform me through the door that he knew I was in there and that if I didn't let him in, he'd have to force it, and that would be unfortunate for us both. He asserted he just wanted to talk to me and would prefer to keep it that way. I've seen how he fights, I know what he can do if he so desires. So, I opened the door, knives ready, just in case.
And, strangely, he really did just want to chat.

Apparently, I left him a scar and somehow that translates to instant respect from David. I'm not sure I get it, but maybe I would if anyone I'd respected had ever left me a scar. With, I suppose the possible exception of David himself. I don't like him or what he does, but I have to respect him and his abilities.
We actually had a pretty pleasant chat, even the part where he tried to convince me to sleep with him. He took my no quite gracefully and continued the conversation.

He's seemingly picked me as someone who's approved by him to be TMV's friend. According to him, he doesn't want to leave him friendless, just remove the ones who are 'bad for him'. Ugh. I'm almost tempted to cut contact with TMV just to be contrary. I really don't like the way he said that.
Of course, I won't though, because it might be some help for TMV to know he has at least one friend who's not in immediate danger of getting tortured or murdered by David.

He left after a little while, but came back to inform me that he'd caught Jake skulking outside my room. Perhaps it was bad of me, but I let David take him. He'd apparently threatened TMV. To David's face. He was in a rage and I knew just by looking at him it'd take a fight to get him away from him. Call me crazy, but I wasn't about to risk Star's and my life for Jake. Especially after I talked David into leaving him alive and more or less intact. 'So he could defend himself when I went after him for what he'd done.'
So David's got Jake. No idea what he'll do.

In any event, I really need to get moving again. If David and Jake can find me, so can others.

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.