Day 14

Only three cans of ravioli left. Water is running low. Can’t shower in contaminated water. Haven’t since it all began.

It’s been two weeks since I locked myself in this basement. Everyone I remember now is probably dead or a Henry Stickmin. I occasionally hear the music that always accompanies one come and go from outside the barricaded door. Their presence has become more frequent, likely hinting that they can feel my presence in my house. I know I won’t make it if they figured out I was hiding in here.

Now, the only thing I truly know is my death is close. Either I run out of food, or they get me. But if they get to me then I won’t let those fuckers take me. I’ve got only three bullets in my Python. I’ll use it on two of ’em and myself like a real fucking Chadster.

Now, it is true only a quick death is truly a luxury of mercy. My soul will not be subject to an eternity of slavery to Henry Stickmin. If I somehow do, god help me…