(Private locked) Just got out of work.
I'm typing this on the bus. I'll post it when I get back to the dorm. Mary & Brandon sent me home early, she saw how I was moving and asked what happened. Seems falling down a flight of stairs is suitable reason to get to go home early. I insisted on cleaning tack first, something that didn't mean a lot of movement. I almost didn't make it to work, I was afraid to get out of bed, but in order to not-go-in, I'd have had to call in anyway and my cell phone was in my pocket. Which would have meant getting up. By then, nothing had grabbed me, so I went to work. God, I want to throw up.
Doyle was sleeping when I left. I think I remember him moving, but I'm not really sure. I slept. I know I did, because I woke up, but it doesn't feel like it. I dreamed. I dreamed a lot. Most of them were of...not being me. Being someone...something else. A memory of something that used to be human and isn't anymore. Something curious, something cold. So cold. Almost like it was...a memory of an event that used to be human. That doesn't make sense to me and I just wrote it. The other dream was there, the one that usually leaves me crying. It was a comfort, in comparison, it was sad, despairing, but it was human, and therefore, warmer.
I couldn't warm up, last night. I woke up plastered to Doyle's side and I couldn't get warm enough, and I couldn't let myself just put my arms around him. He's bruised worse than I am. I'm scared to go to sleep tonight. I'm scared to go to sleep ever again, but I'll get over that. I miss the anger, already. It was so cold.
What did we wake up? What did I wake up? I'm going to write up a post and lock it to the people in the ghost hunt, I want information to take with us when we go hunting, I want every single scrap of knowledge to...what, fight this thing? It almost got us. All of us. I don't know if what I felt when it took me over scares me more or the fact that it did it to others. I'm going to hear Doyle's screams for a long time. I can hear them now. Will, telling Mark he didn't care about the camera. Jack threatening to shoot everyone.
Doyle's screams.
Why did we go in without doing research? How could we have been so STUPID? I had two weeks, I could have gone looking and I was so caught up with everything else that I didn't, and...no. No matter what Doyle says, I knew better, I should have done the research. That thing almost shot people. Maybe it's time to quit running and start the introspective process that I've been avoiding, before I get someone killed.