REACT Psychological Health Journal

PRESCRIBED BY: Specialist Gustave Kateb

IN USE BY: Specialist Elzbieta Bosak

August 9, 2020

After what happened yesterday, Doc handed me this journal. He told me to put my thoughts on paper rather than on Ash's face. Told me it would help me feel better about my situation. I don't think he understands my situation, however. What would he think if he suddenly came out of stasis foam, then got told he had to be put in a fucking glass box?

So what? I got slashed by a grunt, got knocked down and followed protocol and covered myself in stasis foam. I should have come out of the medical bay and straight back to work but for some reason I've been quarantined. They say the grunt was some new type of ugly, something about it was off according to my team. Are they being overly cautious? Of course, they are. Eliza is just paranoid. It's been a year of fighting this thing and she still acts like we're all going to die if one so much as sneezes at us. If I get slashed by a grunt that just looks fatter, will they do this again? Lock me up in a display case like I'm some jewelry? I've been on the field more than she has. I should be running this. I have more experience with the Chimera than she has. All she's done is sit on this ship and work us like dogs. They did this to Marius last month after he got hit by a mangled roach, they thought it was some new species and that was their only justification.

What are they not telling us about? Did something happen with the parasite that makes them more contagious or something? Can the infection bypass our sterilization protocols now? Wait, but haven't cases of contagion ceased in 2019? Chimera's been producing its own damn aliens; it doesn't need a host anymore if the hypotheses are correct. So why would it still be infecting people? Is it even? If not, it only proves further that my imprisonment is just a product of Eliza's delusions. Had Doc not threatened me with a fucking straight jacket after fighting with half of the REACT division I'd be swinging this chair at the walls. That, and the damn camera in the corner.

I couldn't sleep last night knowing some pervert was probably watching me. That camera's the reason I stopped wearing my damn leggings, it should've occurred to me sooner to stop wearing it in general. Or perhaps there's a solution to that eye in the corner. When I was brushing my teeth in the (fortunately walled) bathroom, I had an idea involving some toothpaste. I'm itching to do it. I might get reprimanded, but to hell with Eliza and Gustave, I'd rather get angry words from them than have someone stare at me through a camera while I sleep. That security guy is off-putting in the few times I've seen him. I'm doing it before I go to bed.

August 10, 2020

I woke up to the camera lens still covered in toothpaste as I desired. The day went fine, which was incredibly odd to me. To anyone who ever gets this journal out of my stiff, dead hands, I apologize for the language last night. I was angry. What else can I say? Even writing in a non-professional format is embarrassing me. I've never written out my raw thoughts before. It makes me feel like a child. It does remind me back when my father, Jan, would stare over my shoulder whenever I wrote letters. Any mistake I made he spotted, and he would break the deafening silence with his voice, telling me to correct my grammar or tone. Everything I'm writing here, I can hear him, telling me what I'm doing wrong. He's probably standing behind me as a ghost reading this right now. Father, I hope you understand this is a journal. I hope regardless that you are proud of me and how far I've come. I love you father.

I'm writing this segment 2 hours after the previous paragraph. I tried to take a nap, but I got woken up. Nienke came to visit. She noticed the toothpaste smeared camera and stared at it for a bit. I was expecting a reprimand, but instead she sat down and had a normal talk with me. She wanted to know why I did what I did the day I was quarantined. She didn't come off confrontational, she was polite. I sort of expected that from her. I actually enjoy her company; I feel like I can trust her. That feeling of tension coming off your shoulders when you know you can be honest with someone is so relieving. Although she may be an R&D nerd, she at least goes on the field with us too. She too questions the reasoning behind my containment, which is what brought her to me apparently. She took a blood sample from my thumb though; I didn't see much of a reason for that. As she left though, I was going to say something, but I choked on my saliva. I had a little coughing fit and explained it to her, but something about her face changed when she turned around. Her face was flat like she saw a ghost, unmoving as if to scan the room for something. Her look gave me a new type of creeps. One that didn't feel obvious but subtle. It made my spine feel uneasy instead of frozen. That look made me confused and worried. What did she know that made her look back at me like that? Why did she just stare at me one eye over her shoulder as if to try and hide her face? Maybe I was wrong about her.

August 11, 2020

Last night I had a bad dream. I relived that day. We were heading to the extraction zone when one of those things came out around a corner towards someone. I don't remember his name, but I know he's called "Rook." That thing was going to get him in the back. I felt it all over again. The rush in my blood, time slowing down around me, and then tackling him out of the way. I felt that creature's arm cut my skin, opening the flesh on my chest. I felt the muscle fibers splitting, the fat layer tearing like jelly, the pain shooting up my spine. Shuhrat gunned it down, then ran over to me. He cried out my name, he tried to come for me, but the creatures returned in greater force. I could see through his helmet the shock on his face as I fell weak and limp. Before I knew it, I had activated the stasis foam out of instinct. It sealed my wound and stopped the bleeding, then I lost sight. Before I fell into a deep trance, I heard the sound of gunfire and the aliens howling.

But this time when I woke up, I was in darkness. I grasped at the walls around me, but I could only barely extend my hands forward. I heard sad music outside. I heard crying. But a while after, I heard people talking about me. I heard Shuhrat talk about our friendship, then I heard Rook speak of how I saved his life. It was then that the confusion had subsided. I was in a coffin at my own funeral. I hit the top of the coffin as hard as I could, yelling out to them that I was alive. My voice had fallen on deaf ears. I began to cry, begging them to bring me back up. Then I heard the sound of something spilling on the coffin. The sound of dirt spilling. I recognized it. I muttered out to her, Zofia, feeling the tears rolling down my face. I felt her presence fade, and I cried out one last time for her to save me. In one last effort, I screamed. I screamed with so much force that I felt my throat failing and my lungs burning. I screamed with a pitch so high I sounded twenty years younger. It reverberated in my eardrums so harshly I swore I felt blood coming out from my ears.

Then I woke up in my hospital bed, my hand touched the cold glass wall beside me. I breathed this sterile and crisp air once again. Somehow, after going through all that, I managed not to cry. I got up and went about my day as if it had never happened. But in my head I thought about it constantly, even as I tried to distract myself with upgrading my mines. One thought came to me and it hasn't left me: I wonder if the coffin in my dream and this glass box are no different.