Chapter 42: I Didn't Spiral Into Madness

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Dear Diary,

I write these words with a heavy heart, burdened by the weight of my sins. The path I have walked, and the choices I have made, have led me to a desolate place where remorse and despair hold sway. I no longer see myself as a mere human, but a vessel of darkness, a spectre haunting the world.

Oh, Shira, my sweet companion in this forsaken journey, how deeply I sorrow for the fate that befell you. In that forest of nightmares, when the ghoul's jaws tore into my flesh, I cast you aside, believing it to be an act of salvation. I thought that by sparing you the horror of witnessing my demise, I could protect you from the cruel realities of this twisted existence.

But now, as the truth seeps through the cracks of my shattered soul, I realize the depth of my folly. I abandoned you in a river of despair, leaving you to witness the grotesque spectacle of my sacrifice. The image of your innocent eyes, etched with trauma and disbelief, haunts me relentlessly, a constant reminder of my failure as a protector.

I am sorry, Shira, sorry for the pain I inflicted upon you, sorry for the world I have thrust you into. I was consumed by my own rage, blinded by a thirst for vengeance that clouded my judgment. In my misguided attempt to shield you from the horrors of this world, I only succeeded in perpetuating the cycle of suffering.

As the darkness within me grows, consuming what little fragments of humanity remain, I fear that redemption has become an unattainable dream. The guilt gnaws at my spirit, leaving me hollow and desolate. I cannot escape the echoes of your cries, the echoes of my own remorse.

There is no absolution for one such as me, no solace in the depths of this abyss. I am a wretched creature, a vessel of darkness, forever bound to this twisted existence. The weight of my sins bears down upon me, threatening to shatter what little remains of my fractured soul.

Shira, my dear companion, I beg for your forgiveness, though I know it will never be granted. I can only hope that you have found solace, that somehow, amidst the chaos and despair, you have discovered a glimmer of light to guide you through this darkness.

In the twilight of my existence, I relinquish the illusion of redemption. I am but a spectre, a haunted soul wandering these desolate corridors of despair. May my penance be a testament to the depths of my sorrow, a lamentation for the innocence lost and the bonds shattered.

Farewell, dear diary, as I fade into the shadows, forever tormented by the echoes of my past.

Yours in sorrow, Dust

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[Note: The following passage is a torn-out diary page, a raw and unfiltered expression of Dust's inner torment. It contains graphic content and dark themes.]

A page torn from the Diary of Dust:

I can no longer bear the weight of this eternal darkness that engulfs my very being. The pain, oh, the pain, it courses through my veins like a venomous river, consuming me from within. I yearn for liberation, for release from this cursed existence.

In the deepest recesses of my shattered soul, I harbour a desperate desire to sever the ties that bind me to this world of suffering. The crimson rivers that flow beneath my skin beckon me, tempting me with their promise of freedom. How enticing it is to envision the release, to feel the warmth of my lifeblood spill forth in a macabre symphony.

I am trapped in a perpetual nightmare, drowning in a sea of darkness. Each waking moment is an agony, a relentless reminder of the atrocities I have witnessed and committed. The faces of those I have lost, both innocent and guilty, haunt my every thought, their visages twisted with pain and anguish.

No more shall I endure the torment of this existence. The blade calls to me, its cold embrace a whispered seduction. It promises an end to the suffering, a final act of defiance against this cruel world. With each scarlet stroke, I seek solace in the release of my tormented spirit.

Let these words be a testament to my shattered resolve, a testament to the depths of my despair. I am a broken vessel, a vessel too damaged to be salvaged. May this ink-stained confession serve as a requiem for the shattered remnants of my fractured soul.

Do not read these words, for they are not meant to be seen by mortal eyes. They are the unfiltered expressions of a tormented mind, the desperate pleas of a lost soul. May they be swallowed by the abyss, lost to the ages, a whispered secret of a tortured existence.

In this darkest hour, I bid farewell to hope, to redemption, and to the tattered fragments of my sanity. Let the void claim me, let the eternal night embrace me, for in that darkness, I shall find the freedom I so desperately seek.

[End of torn-out diary page]