Day 13:
I couldn't sleep properly last night. Although I'm calm now, I had the most disturbing dream.
I was in a nuclear wasteland – desolate fields on all sides, all aflame. I was hungry and so was my fiancé. We walked through the lands (I wanted her dead, and I think she knew) and came across a human corpse. I said I couldn't eat him. Terri sat on his face and her grin stretched to her ears. She told me that the man didn't have a face anymore, ergo it wasn't human. I remember the wave of nausea as I put my hands inside his abdomen and pulled out fresh intestines. Terri laughed.
Everyone hates me.
Day 14:
Another nightmare last night. Fuck work. I'm tired. Terri isn't talking to me.
I dreamt I was lying in a hospital bed, emaciated. I had no energy to get up or even swallow properly. I was sobbing, silently sobbing. Terri came into my room, left a prosthetic arm beside me and went back out again. I gripped the hand of the arm and pretended it was living. I didn't want to be alone.
Day 15:
Keep getting calls – I don't want to go into work. Everyone hates me.
Terri has fucked off somewhere.
I snapped the disc in half and threw it outside.
My head feels as if it's gonna explode. I can't sleep anymore. I can just about write.
Day 16:
Children playing across the street have malevolent faces. It's observing me through the fresh corpses of little girls and boys.
Day 17:
Terri comes home, tears in her eyes. It's fake. She lies with me on the bed and I wish I could tell her of all the things I have seen, but I know I can't.
I tell her I'm ill and I need help.
Day 18:
I'm on my way to the hospital – im so empty that I'm parroting what the man says on the radio in Terri's car.
I don't recognize the hospital. I look in the wing-mirror and I don't recognize myself.