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At the suggestion of the others, I am beginning this journal. I cannot yet think of a way to date it effectively to another reader, but as for now it exists solely for my own perusal so this is not any great trouble. Even I do not fully grasp my circumstances as yet, but I shall attempt as complete a summary as may be mustered. From what memories I can recall without undue ... stress - very little. Well, then, as I am told by these people, it would seem I am one of a group of split-personalities of what was once a singular person. What has been related to me but the others would seem to support this odd conclusion. I do not know that I find it completely convincing, but am at a loss for a better explanation. As of yet.
I'll skip lines to show time has passed, but I shan't note how much time. It would be difficult, and -
If I could be alone, for just a little while.
Yesterday, Sheila tried to get inside ME to provide her memories as proof. It shames me to say this, in this small time they have said that I would be alone, but it caused me to fully panic. They always speak to me as if I were a child; that kind of behavior will do little to change their opinions. At least the andriod bodies appear quite difficult to damage; my strength is much greater than I had thought. At other times, however, one or more has actually somehow been deep within the core of what I feel to be my sole self, and I could not distinguish their presence without elaborate and detailed guidance This concerns the one calling herself Sheila; I can feel their emotions now even when they are within the android bodies. Somehow, my development is not going as theirs did. They actually fear for me. It's odd to find they actually care - for me, not just some side-effect of my desolution. I don't feel apt to 'fading away' however; I feel a bit better now than I have before.
Well, I can't be sure of not loosing time, occasionally.
Back to the story.
And a weird tale, it is, too. Supposedly, a secondary set of seven personalities were spawned from the disastrous cracking of one mind under the effects of a Symbol called the Logrus. Purported to be some ever-changing Primal representation of Chaos itself; a thing of mystical might that drives insane eight of ten of those who trespass within it to death, and leaves the survivors maddened. Thus has my madness - beg pardon, I still don't fully believe this, but to be polite - our madness origin's been attributed. Now, you see, I'm supposedly mad as well. Just keeps on getting better, doesn't it?
Myself, I cannot comprehend how entropy itself could be represented even so, much less chaos itself. The others don't seem to have my intuitive grasp of the concepts and fail to see the impossibility of such. Even if such a thing did exist, I cannot see myself being fool enough to risk those odds. For a simple gain in some ill-defined power that no one can make clear to me, even now. It's ridiculous.
But, still - Even if the tale isn't true. I do have these voices inside my head, and periods of time, sometimes very long where I have no recollection at all. If I could only think this through completely…
The fear is always here.
I lost about three days, that particular time; finally convinced the big one, called Morgan, to tell me. He, at least, I trust not to lie. Though he could be tricked - this could all be some elaborate trick. I don't see what they would want. Something I knew? Fat chance of that. My memories are a riotous scramble of images, none of which might be factual. Many, I can tell from the content, are hallucinations, dreams, and maybe even totally fabricated delusions. At least I have an incredible imagination, even for a madwoman. Perhaps I should become a writer.
No. I've spent the last two weeks considering it carefully. From the power these people have - I have nothing that would tempt them to this. And my mind's stability IS slowly improving. They are helping me, not causing me more distress, with the notable exception of Sheila's attempt. That was my own doing, too; I asked for that. Even demanded it. I still say, quite truthfully, that I do not believe them. They try not to show amusement.
This whole idiotic situation is SO immensely frustrating. I am about ready to start demanding answers again. I am tougher now. Proved so to Morgan when he took too much liberty last practice, soundly. The bruises were well worth the satisfaction. Sometimes I only feel that I AM myself only with a sword in my grasp.
Sheila's memories are incredibly detailed and vibrant of the six others. But like when I try to recall my beginnings, as she tries to recall clear back to the Logrus her very mind rebels against the effort in pure, blind terror. This is incredible in itself. Sheila is the least likely to panic, the most calm, of them all. Even Morgan's stone-like personage will ruffle long before hers. Her best effort so far has rendered only a vague memory of stumbling in hideous pain and blinded vision, with something hot that seems blood coursing down over her face from a scalp wound. Given how it affected Sheila, and even how I feel now, just afterwards - I would not care to attempt another such effort.
There has to be another way to verify this story - so far, all evidence is rumor or circumstantial.
They have given me some books to read; they do not appear to know I have read these before. I haven't let on because they don't like repetition any more than I do. So, it gives me more time alone at the mere cost of turning pages. The books are Amber books of Roger Zelzany. I cannot remember clearly - but when I read them the first time, I was sitting on a sofa and the room was cold. I think… it hurts so much to try and get anything clear. Surely I did not read all nine in a single attempt; there should be more to recall. But it's gone after that.
There is almost a sense of schedule now - I have a larger 'shift' than the others, if they split it evenly. Of course, since I cannot … or will not rather, shift myself 'out' of my body to one of the Term people, any time one of them is inside me I am probably not aware at all. Hysterical blockage? Am I robbing myself of all those hours?
I cannot decide what has happened to me, what is the truth. I am so rarely alone, and it so hard to think. I do not know who I am, and they are not forthcoming. Saying I must decide for myself is hardly of any help. If they and I are truly one, why don't they help me?
If I am in this goldfish bowl much longer, with all their knowing eyes and very SELVES within me without even my awareness, I shall go mad. I
Which of my personal haunts are you? Sarah or Meg? I know. Meg. Sarah at least had some sense of honor.
Having fun playing spy?
It made me so sick with disgust and fear that it was only after Sheila and the angel girl had managed to take Meg out away somewhere that I was cognizant of my surroundings again. You see, Meg is a demon.
No, I don't mean that I don't like her, although I certainly do NOT. I mean a real Hellfire and brimstone type demon. Fallen angel. As in the only good thing about her is that means true angels might still exist somewhere. Do I sound hateful? I should.
I am.
They'd taken her off guard by hitting her in the midst of 'dinner'. I refuse to write anymore detail than the fact "dinner" was something that once might have been a nice looking guy. About the only things you could still tell about him was the blonde hair, the fact he was male, and one green eye was still there, untouched in the generalized ruin of what was a face before. It stood out so well, being undamaged, from the other… pieces. His ability to scream was lost long before my sole glimpse of the event, to put this succinctly before I get sick again. I WILL finish writing this.
But it will have to wait a bit.
I guess Morgan talked me calm again after a while. Actually, I don't clearly remember leaving, or how long it was until I recovered from the shock. I remember him walking us somewhere; he was in the middle of some street with people walking about. I envied them suddenly, with every drop of passion I have. Their normal lives, their happiness, their families, their ability to not have weird things like this weighing over their heads. I suddenly went berserk wanting to hit things. Morgan, whom I like the most of any of them, only barely talked me out of that one. He had to promise to let me hit everything when we got where he was going, even to do that much.
After a while, I was exhausted. My rage had resulted in one heck of a wrecked hotel room, but Morgan didn't voice a single complaint. When I accepted, he took over easily. I didn't know that the body shifted shape. It was… weird. But he sings well. I was almost asleep when the ghost of me appeared. It looked just like me; none of the others look anything like me. But Morgan wasn't frightened, and I was so tired that I just went to sleep. I suspect it was really me, or maybe Morgan moving me to a Term. Probably a post-hypnotic trigger in the song; Morgan is honorable, but very sneaky.
My throat was vibrating; then I realized I was both screaming and struggling against Morgan as he tried to wake me up. I stopped, shocked into silence. It's a very odd thing to wake up screaming. Tasting blood and well, other things in your mouth. My stomach trembled and threatened revolt. I firmly told it that Morgan was in the real body, and any decent Term wouldn't NEED to throw up. I had gone from never wanting to relinquish my body to never wanting to wear it again pretty fast, eh?
I was snarled up in some sheets and a ridiculous long nightgown. The nightgown MUST have been Morgan's idea. He is really being over-protective, since the incident. You could almost swear I was his daughter instead of… whatever. I struggled out of them both, as I was sweating like a horse inside a flaming barn.
Morgan had been trying some kind of ineffective murmurs to calm me, but had started to withdraw when I undressed so hastily. Sheila had mentioned he'd lost a wife way back, and never really got over it. I was far too wrought up to care. So, I threw him on the bed, and decided to take my own comforts from the situation, or more pointedly, him. It took a while to finally convince him.
Damn all their over-cautious whining, damn being treated like a child, and most all damn Meg, even if she already is. And wouldn't you just damn well guess it? Morgan was good. Although how can I tell that??
It was three months. She had me under for three whole month's time. And kept them locked out, they say. Kept them back by some threat the nature of which they will not yet divulge to me. What hold is this she has? Will it hurt me, does she have it over me, as well? I must convince them to tell me.
I am so afraid.
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