Private Journal, Entry #1

(Author's Note: Sections marked with have been crossed out on the page)
 
Dear Diary.
That sounds rather silly. I’ve never kept a journal of this kind, so I’m not entirely sure where to begin. Ordinarily I write either letters or for academic purposes, so I suppose the best place to begin is with the facts.
 
I have come to the conclusion that I am, in fact, dead. I have reached this conclusion due to several pieces of evidence, listed below.
 
• Although I can enjoy food and drink, it isn’t needed to sustain me. After spending a total of 82 hours without ingesting anything and having no negative effects, I have concluded that nutrients are no longer a necessity and can be taken for purposes of pleasure if desired. As things currently stand, I shall continue the pretense that I need food and drink as to not alarm those around me.
 
• Inhaling is only a necessity when it comes to speaking. Simply, I don’t need to breathe. I have been reminding myself to make the effort to due to from time to time as to not raise suspicion, but air is no longer required to sustain life, only to produce sound.
 
• My heart no longer beats. I thought it may be beating, simply at a lower rate, but it has not contracted once since I have been awake. As a heartbeat is usually a telltale sign of life, this lends itself to be the most damning evidence of my demise.
 
• I don’t need to sleep. I can sleep, if I wish to, but given the nightmares I choose not to. Sleeping is also something required to sustain life so, as I am no longer beholden to it-
 
I could list more, but the listing is growing tedious. I suppose the metal is another thing that makes me something other. I’m not sure what this “other” is that I am becoming and the private library is doing little to assist me. I shall need to purchase more books on the subject. [Perhaps I could ask Khruzat to check the library at the church.]
 
The metal I noticed immediately was that covering my chest where the heart initially entered. It’s cold. Where it meets my skin and when I touch it, it’s always cold. This morning I touched a portion of the metal to hot iron to see if that would change the temperature significantly and, though it did have a mild effect, the temperature of the metal remained stubbornly cold. I’m not sure if it is from the metal or from the fact that I am dead, but I am always cold as of late.
 
The second instance of noticing the metal was noticing how it effected the patches already present on my skin. The face has always been hard to hide, but I’ve managed to cover the patches on the rest of my body with modest clothing for the majority of my life. If this continues I may need to find ways to cover my face as well. Starting from my chest and shoulders, the patches are becoming silver. They are cold as well, [as if the metal is eating me from the inside out.] leading me to believe that the metal is either already a part of my entire body or is spreading in a disease-like fashion.
 
Context seems important at this point before I continue. I didn’t know what the heart would actually do. If I had, I wouldn’t have done what I did. [If I had known any of this was quite as real as it has proven to be, I would have] The graveyard was a mistake that I will never atone for. There is little more to say than that.
 
I wouldn’t say I was overjoyed to find I wasn’t completely gone. I am still dead, mind, but I am still able to walk and attend to my living duties. There is still so much left to do here. I have my sister, the matter of convincing Khruzat that cults are a bad idea and he should leave, as well as assisting Holo in finding her daughter. The first matter at hand will be helping Holo as soon as I can convince Flower that it is safe for me to leave the house. Last time I mentioned it she attempted to stab me with a salad fork. It broke on the metal.
 
The most assistance I can offer Holo, if she’ll allow me to accompany her, would be financial. I have always know my position is privileged, I have only come to recently realize how privileged I truly am. I plan to spare no expense when it comes to obtaining resources and plan to put out a reward for information if she consents to it. I think an adventure will do me good to take my mind off of things, at least, and Holo has already done so much for me. I’m not sure I can ever truly pay her back, but I can certainly try. She is possibly the kindest woman I have ever met and, though I’ll never tell anyone this, she is the kind of woman I always imagined would make a perfect mother. That is to say, in a different world, she is the mother I would want to have as my own.
 
There’s Franie, of course. She’s grown more spirited of late. I think this whole affair has had an influence on her and it’s refreshing to see her come out into her own, in a way. She’s always had a temper, now she seems more willing to act on it. Her heart is in the right place, as it always is, she now seems more willing to kill to make things right than to simply stay put and let things happen. I quite like the growth I’ve seen in her, particularly her interest in bardic magics. She’s always had a talent for music. [I’m sorry it had to come to her thinking me dead for her to finally follow that passion.]
 
Khruzat has been a frequent companion to me since the escape. I find his company to be the easiest since there is little expectation there. We can simply exist within the same space as each other, which is a nice feeling. I do worry for him, though. I don’t know why he clings to the church, he doesn’t strike me as a devout sort, but he has a stubborn refusal to leave. I’ve only brought it up twice so far, and I may not bring it up again considering his reaction last time, but I don’t think any good can come of him staying there. Of course, it isn’t me decision to make. Holo chose to leave of her own accord, and he very well could too. I only worry that something may happen to him like what has happened to me and I don’t think I could bare that.
 
All this to say, I wasn’t overjoyed when I found out I wasn’t dead in the traditional sense. I simply felt relieved. If I had been gone I would have regretted leaving everyone behind. It’s funny how perspective shifts when you die. I plan on remaining on this plane of existence for as long as possible, for the sake of those around me more than anything else.
 
I don’t plan on staying on this plane for forever.
 
The final thing I need mention, the reason for me starting a journal at all, is the voice. It hasn’t left. I haven’t told anyone about it and, unless it continues to get louder, I don’t think I shall. When it was still a minor inconvenience, I had considered mentioning it to my friends in hopes they may have some resources to remove it. All of it, I suppose. Though, thinking about that now, if the voice were to be removed, would the rest of it? And, if that were the case, would I cease functioning?
Note for later research.
 
It’s less a voice than an entire presence. I can feel it inside my mind. I can feel it move from time to time. [The best I can describe it is] I don’t know how to properly describe this. Even trying to break it down to something scientific and objective, I can’t find the words for it. I am not alone within my body anymore. Perhaps one of the functional purposes for my sudden growth is to make room for whatever it is. If that is the case, there may be a component part of the heart still with my body. [If that were removed, perhaps]
 
I didn’t realize we spoke in a different language (the voice and I) until I spoke to it out loud. Previously, we had a mental repertoire, but I grew to exasperated this morning that I spoke out loud and it sounded wrong. It’s not a language I’ve heard before and I would ask Franie for help deciphering it but-
I won’t ask any of them for help. Not yet. It seems incredibly unfair to ask for help with something like this. Especially considering I plan to leave before things get too bad.
 
I am afraid that the voice will take control eventually and that monster will come back.
 
I am afraid I will be the cause of the destruction of everything I love.
 
So, before things get too bad, I will have found a way to either safely end my existence and take this thing inside of me with me, or I will find a way to enter a different plane of existence and spend the rest of my time being undead somewhere where I couldn’t possibly hurt anyone.
 
The amount of things I love in this world has expanded from one to three, and I will not be the person responsible for causing them pain.
 
In the meantime, I shall keep this journal. I plan on writing down anything and everything the voice says to me. I plan on recording research (that I must do alone, it seems) in ways to either destroy this thing or to remove myself from the equation to make it impossible for this thing to cause harm. As a personal note, I will likely also record adventures in here and track the progress I make of convincing Khruzat to leave the church. I am also selfishly hopeful that keeping this journal will help to alleviate some of my fear. I find there is always a lingering sense of fear with me now, somewhere in the back of my mind-
 
Note: I can’t be sure, but I’m fairly certain I could sense the voice laughing as I wrote. It wasn’t a sound, per say. Just a feeling.
 
Currently, I’m unsure what else there is to say in this journal entry. I also find I’m unsure if there is a proper way to end a journal entry such as this.
 
[The end]
[Until next time]
[Regards,]
 
(Note: research methods to protect secrets within the mind from an entity within ones own mind)