Dear Diary,
As I sit here beneath the crumbling arches of this forgotten bridge, my companions slumbering soundly around me, I can't help but marvel at the irony of it all. Here we are, a group of survivors seeking refuge from the horrors of the night, huddled together like frightened children around a flickering flame.
But amidst the facade of camaraderie and unity, there lies a darker truth—a truth that only I am privy to. For you see, I have no intention of seeing this night through with my companions unscathed.
As they sleep, their defenses lowered and their minds clouded by dreams of a better tomorrow, I find myself consumed by a singular thought—fresh meat.
All of them are my prey, hopeless souls whose demise will serve as a reminder of the cruelty of this world. They will never see me coming, never suspecting the hand that guides them to their untimely end.
And when the deed is done, when the life drains from their eyes and their blood stains the cold earth beneath me, I will simply slip back into the shadows, a silent specter haunting the night.
It is a game to me, a game of survival in a world where only the strong will endure. And tonight, as I watch my companions sleep, I know that I am the strongest of them all.
End of Diary Entry.