August 203?
Oh Claire, there are old sayings that the dead live on through thoughts and tales of the living. I will not let you die a second time. Claire, I will endeavor this madness for you.
I used to be sane. Oh deary, when those bastards stripped you away from me, your fiancée's sanity went along . But a bound man could not fight, no matter how much he begged. If I known they were going to shoot to kilI, I would of given up the goddamned loaf of bread.
Why did they not kill me Claire? Why did they want to let a man deteriorate from loss bound to his own couch? Why did they leave your fresh corpse in the sitting chair, allowing it to watch ME rot. It's a miracle that i found the strength to gnaw off the fibers that kept me oppressed. Its a miracle that I manage to bury you in that makeshift grave, which now as surely been ruined by the acid rain.
Claire, it killed me to leave home. To leave our hopes, dreams, aspirations, and you. I often think about just laying down in the mud and letting the acid rain oblierate me into nothing. To leave this forsaken world, left by god a century ago. To stop looting houses for meager rations, disrupting corpses out of pure survival needs. Has it been a day since you left? Maybe a year? Everything is muddled now.
But Claire, I live for you.
-Court
Oh Claire, there are old sayings that the dead live on through thoughts and tales of the living. I will not let you die a second time. Claire, I will endeavor this madness for you.
I used to be sane. Oh deary, when those bastards stripped you away from me, your fiancée's sanity went along . But a bound man could not fight, no matter how much he begged. If I known they were going to shoot to kilI, I would of given up the goddamned loaf of bread.
Why did they not kill me Claire? Why did they want to let a man deteriorate from loss bound to his own couch? Why did they leave your fresh corpse in the sitting chair, allowing it to watch ME rot. It's a miracle that i found the strength to gnaw off the fibers that kept me oppressed. Its a miracle that I manage to bury you in that makeshift grave, which now as surely been ruined by the acid rain.
Claire, it killed me to leave home. To leave our hopes, dreams, aspirations, and you. I often think about just laying down in the mud and letting the acid rain oblierate me into nothing. To leave this forsaken world, left by god a century ago. To stop looting houses for meager rations, disrupting corpses out of pure survival needs. Has it been a day since you left? Maybe a year? Everything is muddled now.
But Claire, I live for you.
-Court
