Voices

[Shadowlark ¢¾]

Foreword

Welcome to Quote's journal.

Here, we get to see what goes in our silent protagonist's head... Though, these things are not always happy things; in fact, they seldom are. He hardly has anything happy to write about. Within this journal, you'll stumble across horrors akin to nightmares, traumatic tales of blood and death, short-cut glimpses of the past, and very serious, occasionally dark matters.

What we face within these pages is cold, hard reality. The truths and opinions of someone who's faced enough brutality in seventeen years to fill two, possibly three lifetimes. Think of this book as a therapist; all those tales and secrets printed on paper.

Seeing how this corrupted teenager's mind works comes at a price; are you willing to pay it?

Future Topics
+ Pondering: Dehumanization
+ Riddles
+ Aster
+ Huntsbane
+ Poisonous plants & substances?
+ Pondering: Tears
+ Crime

[Shadowlark ¢¾]

Hi.

My name is Quote MacGallan. I'm seventeen, and I'm travelling through Aryll. It's like there's a lead weight on my shoulders from the past. I used to have an older sister. She's dead. I used to have a younger brother. He's in an asylum. I used to have a mother. We found her hacked up in an alleyway. I used to have a father. I don't know what happened to him, and I don't want to know. He's the reason the rest of my family is dead or insane. It was bound to happen eventually. I just never thought I'd be the one to come out of it relatively normal. I say relatively for one reason. Not because of the physical scars, or the memories that replay over and over in my head, no. It's because of what I can't do.

I can't speak.

It's been almost two years since Aster died. It's been almost two years since I stopped talking. She took my voice away with her life. Same thing for my brother, but I think she took his mind away too. I feel like it should've been me, and not him, that went insane. He was only a year younger than me, but he was still my little brother. He doesn't deserve to be dead without dying. It should be me. That's only one of the guilts that I feel. I feel like I didn't do enough to save my sister, either. Aster doesn't deserve to be dead, really dead. Not by her own hand, either. I understand better what happened now. It still makes me ill.

There's a poison in my blood now, and it burns. It's all the memories and guilt and pain, I know it. The physical and mental scars sear every day, burning away solace. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't write. I didn't know what I was doing before I got this journal, this pen. Hurting inside, unable to talk, no matter how hard I tried and tried. I couldn't scream, or cry with noise. Something's missing inside.

I hate being empathetic. I almost think it'd be better to feel nothing at all. It gets me sucked into so many emotional situations that I can't get out of, I just get dragged down, down, down. But then I think of what happened to my brother. He stopped feeling. It must be worse on the other side of the fence. But I still try to shut them out.

You know, some people are afraid of being trapped in a dark room, with someone they can't see. They only see the glint of the knife's blade as they're chased. I tell them that it is a very rational fear. I've lived it, I would know. And the laughing. The cold, cruel, careless laughing. It hurts so bad. And then they catch you. And blood runs down your neck. And the more you struggle, the more there is. And the louder the laughing gets. And you can't scream. There's only the laughing, and the pain, and the tears.

Then there are some days where I feel alone.

So utterly alone. Because I know I am, I just know it. There's no denying it. There is no one that cares about me left, or remembers my existance, or doesn't want me dead, or won't shoot me the next time they see me. Or, at least, it seems like that. The more I wonder about what it's like to be needed, the louder the voices and the memories that're churning get. I wonder when they day'll come, the day they just take over and kill me.

Oh, there's the nightmares, too.

I dream of a lot of things, almost none of them good. A lot of the things are painful, or scary, or cold. The cold ones are the worst, because cold sucks all the happiness from things, like a vaccuum. Then I wake up, and I'm frozen. So cold. Sometimes I'm sweating, and that just makes be even colder, and no matter how many blankets I have, it's always just so cold.

I was happy for the first time in along while today, but only for a short time. I met a Raichu. His name was Rayne. He works at the Aryll Lab; that's where I went today. He's so nice; he understands, sympathizes. It was the first time since my sister died that someone's sympathized with me. He let me meet some of the lab pokemon; and I picked one. A pichu-- partially because pichus evolve into raichus eventually, and he was the first one that wasn't a sibling to ever be kind to me. He also gave me this journal, these pencils.

I think I'll call her Charm.

She likes me too; that made me happy. She paid attention to me right off the bat, and I can tell that she doesn't take to strangers much very often. She's very small, very frightened, very quiet. Like me.

I'm not just quiet in the sense that I can't talk though. Growing up, silence was golden with my father around. We had to do everything as quietly as possible, so he couldn't hear us. Sneezing, coughing, moving... Because noise meant pain and screaming. He'd hit us when we screamed. Sometimes, when I'm in a room with someone who's angry, I still sneeze quietly. I still move even quieter than I already do. I don't want them to hurt me..

I also can't do anything wrong. Because I'll get hurt. Everything has to be done right. Rules have to be followed, or else there's pain. Lots of pain. One time there was even a broken rib, and I wasn't allowed to go to the hospital. You can still feel it if you feel my side; a dent, a crevice.

Little noises scare me. The little things, the sudden things. Is that my dad? I don't know. So I get scared. I cry. I hide. I don't want to be hurt anymore.

So that's me. My name is Quote MacGallan. I'm seventeen, and I'm travelling through Aryll. It's like there's a lead weight on my shoulders from the past. I used to have an older sister. She's dead. I used to have a younger brother. He's in an asylum. I used to have a mother. We found her hacked up in an alleyway. I used to have a father. I don't know what happened to him, and I don't want to know. He's the reason the rest of my family is dead or insane. It was bound to happen eventually. I just never thought I'd be the one to come out of it relatively normal. I say relatively for one reason. Not because of the physical scars, or the memories that replay over and over in my head, no. It's because of what I can't do.

I can't speak.

[Shadowlark ¢¾]

<sub>You know, it gets lonely out here.

Yes, we have pokemon, and our thoughts, and then there's the people we meet on the way... Or... Are supposed to meet on the way... But, it gets really lonely. I don't like being locked in my own head. It's a dark place in here. Charm does her best but... She's a very quiet Pichu. And we can't exactly have a conversation.

Well, journal, I'm sure I'll come up with a way to escape. Until then... I'm trapped with the demons.

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The Paper Airplane Penpal System (PAPS)

If you can hear me, give me a sign. Please. Please. Please.

Sometimes I feel like there's nothing for me to do but melt into the shadows. I haven't found one person yet that seems to really care about my existence-- REALLY care-- and truly understand, or at least grasp the concept, of what my pain is since I lost track of my brother. There was hope when he was around. Now? There's just a void.

I really feel like I'm falling apart.

Please, don't leave me in the dark. I want to know what's going on, know what happens outside of my own head and line of sight. I don't read newspapers, they're too depressing. All these bad things happening-- I'm tormented enough.

Send me a delibird, and write 'Quote' on the envelope. I'll be sure to write back; it'd take my mind off things.

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(ooc: So, send Shadowlark a PM titled Quote if you want to send a letter to Quote. )</sub>