I told Trent. I don't trust Elise at all, but apparently Trent and I were close, at one point, even if I don't remember it. Given that these two were my only options, Trent was the best person to tell about the afflicted that's being kept here in the camp.
He wasn't any help at all, though. His response was extremely calm, stating that he had full confidence in Crutch's ability to keep the thing under control. They have good reasons for keeping it on-site, he's sure.
I, of course, am not so sure that a good reason exists--not for keeping it so close to where all of us sleep. It seems that there should be a separate base dedicated just to keeping that thing under lock and key. If they want to study it and experiment on it, fine, but don't do it in the building next to the one I use for sleep.
Or, that I used to use for sleep. I can't sleep at all, right now. Not after seeing those jaundiced eyes. Those rotting teeth. The pustules. The scars. That monstrosity is going to be one of the few things I remember when I'm on my deathbed.
When I close my eyes, I see its face. I see the mixture of horror and bloodlust in its eyes. I can't sleep, but I also don't want to get out of bed while it's dark. I have this unreasonable fear that the thing is hiding under my bed, waiting for my feet to hit the floor so it can grab me.
YOU ARE READING
The Imperfect's Journal: 2
General FictionMemory loss, chronic pain, tremors. These three characteristics of Darren Stratt's illness raise the difficulty of Darren's exodus from the United States, a country that has decided he is "subhuman" and "imperfect", just like anyone else the governm...
