I'm so sorry for being away for soooo long! I've had exams, annoying older brother, grumpy old father and so much more to worry about! Anyway, the Thunderbirds don't belong to me, sadly. P.S.- Sorry for any spelling mistakes!
Dear diary,
I can't believe I'm doing this but Brains thinks it's a good idea to get everything I'm keeping locked up out and down into this stupid diary.
So, how should I start? Well, lets see, my baby brother is dead and I feel like a failure. I was supposed to protect him. I mean, I'm the oldest. I'm supposed to protect my brothers. It's my duty. But I failed at that. Majorly. What kind of person does that make me? Because at the moment, I feel like a failure.
Dad hasn't forgiven himself… and to be honest, I kinda don't want to forgive him. He thinks that nobody's noticed, but I see him, every night, staring at the knife he holds in his hands. It's pretty obvious what he's thinking about doing but he never does it. Never. I sometimes wonder why but I don't think I want to be inside his head at the moment. It's probably not a safe place to be. John's changed. I guess it's because Alan was the only one that understand him. He stays in his room all day then goes out at night and stares at the stars. He doesn't eat and doesn't drink unless we force it down his throat. Gordon's pretty much the same as well. But instead of staring at the stars, he floats around in the pool. Virgil's no better. He also stays in his room all day but comes out at night to hammer a tune out of his piano. It seems that we've all turned nocturnal!
Maybe Brains was right about this diary malarkey. I kinda feel better already. Not much. My whole body is still numb and cold. Anyway, time to get something to eat. Not that it will help.
Talk to you tomorrow,
Scott
Scott sighed as he laid down the biro and closed the book. Getting up from his chair, he crossed his room with sadness crawling across his face. 'Maybe I should give the others a diary each' Scott shuck his head at his own thought. The others would chuck the books at him instead of writing in them.
Gliding out of the room, Scott looked back at the book that was currently lying comfortably across his desk. Smirking slightly, Scott closed the door and headed down to the kitchen.
Now, dear readers, if anybody was brave enough to enter Scott's room, they would have seen something out of place. And that something was a book, lying across his desk with one word written in gold. Who would have thought that Scott Tracy would have a diary of all things?