You stumbled upon a secret room in which there seems to be the diary of a young girl named XXX. You opened it, hoping there is some hidden message or intel within…-> start to open the diary
Entry 11/3/1915I found myself locked within a dungeon of some kind, with a head-splitting headache greeting me upon opening my eyes. Bars line the outside of the room, and there doesn’t seem to be any windows of any kind. Just me, the bars, my “neighbors” and the three cold stone walls to call my cell.
The other people in the other cells don’t seem to be prisoners or convicts of any kind, and they were kind enough to lend me a diary to write my thoughts within. However, they don’t seem to mind mimicking the creepiness of the dungeon itself when asking me to “lay it down the table next to the small iron door by the third meal,” and what’s more unnerving is that they told me to lay it down “when the long hand faces 12, and the short hand faces 10.” I guess they’re referring to the hands of the numerous clocks that seem to line the walls of this forsaken place.
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Everyone seems to have left their cells, but I can still feel their eyes creeping up and down my body. They all seem to be whispering to each other about something. Gawking, staring, with those blank, empty eyes that seem to never lack any movement. Every moment in this place just makes me want to get home, but I don’t even seem to know how…
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It's been several months now, and someone finally sent us real food instead of the dreadful slog that they fed us with. Stale bread, slid in between the bars with a drink to supplement the gruel. Even so, the bread tastes like the first real food I’ve had ever since I woke up from… wait… I can’t seem to remember anything before being here. Come to think of it, the drink didn’t really taste like water…
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Itching. Constantly.
Why can’t they have a shower here? I feel sticky and fatigued and they couldn’t even give us a washing basin to clean ourselves.
…
I must follow the nun’s instructions. Maybe they’ll finally let me out of this place if I do what they’re told. The nuns are kind enough to ask me how I’m feeling, so it’s rude for me not to reciprocate.
Going to bed. Going to follow that nun’s instructions and pass this dairy past the bars. Hope it doesn’t get lost.
"Take it with a pinch of salt"
Entry 11/4/1915it's second day...Thought that I would get at least a change of scenery. Still a big resounding no. Still the same cell, same gruel, same coldness day in day out. I feel like a caged dog forever waiting for someone to free me and send me home. There’s literally nothing here for me: nothing to do and nowhere to go. The orphanage where I had my smiles and laughter seemed like a distant memory now.Footsteps. Folks who called themselves “scientists” wearing these peculiar outfits opened the gate of my cell for me. Told me I was “the chosen one” as if that is going to bring me back to the days of the orphanage. I’m going to stop writing now, since that is what the nun wanted after all.Pain…Unearthly, godawful pain…My stomach is rejecting everything that I was fed in that hell. This place is a cold, sanitized nightmare. You’d be forgiven if you thought to find Brutus and Crassus here sipping tea with Lucifer. The eyes of those “scientists” looked at me as if I was some kind of animal, being fed poison and being watched as she lies there in her own bile and gut juices. No matter how gory the screams are, no matter how frantic my spasms are, they just stood there, staring blankly.This world…
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… is just painful to live in.The nun lied to me. The prisoners lied to me. Everyone is lying to me. Everyday is the same, those monsters just kept on torturing me to no end. Please, …I don’t want to go back there.