I've neglected this journal.
Too much has happened these few days, and I no longer know what my mission is.
My hands shake and I can't type too well. I won't bother to correct my spelling.
My hands are covered in bandages and they sting horribly. I don’t remember ever experiencing pain. My hands won't stop bleeding, the fabric is almost soaked through and I'm leaving bloody marks as I write.
I must go back three days to write down all that has happened.
Another kill was the reason for my most recent visit to Agent White’s house. We talked for a long time. He explained to me that GRAE has to be in the capitol, They had evidence. But when I asked to see the evidence, I was told that this were classified. Why?
I told White about the woman at the central station, describing her in detail, and told him about my reaction to her. White went silent and I realized, I was trying to read his mind, but he hid his thoughts from me. When he finally spoke he told me that I was too easily noticeable and that I had to disguise myself better. The next day White brought me to one of those hair-cutting shops.
The place reeked of chemicals and I felt slightly sick, getting dizzy. White gave the woman some instructions and she mixed liquids and powder in a plastic bowl, and then proceeded to cover my hair in it, telling me that it would colour my hair. She couldn‘t vouch for it’s durance, and talked in length about white hair not taking colour so well. I think I passed out. It felt like the chemical fumes ate away my brain.
When I resurfaced from oblivion, my hair was indeed coloured. It shone bright red as I looked at it in the mirror. The woman was going on about how cute it was that I had fallen asleep and that this colour was very trendy. I suspect that she was as surprised at the outcome as I was, and was trying to cover it up by being obscenely positive.
I couldn't stay there any longer, the smells returned and my lunges screamed for air. I quickly rose, mumbling a sort of thanks, and rushed outside into the open. White followed shortly after. I guess he paid for the service. He asked if I could manage and I told him the outside air helped.
We parted as he went home and I went hunting. Not much of a hunt though. I felt weak and ill, and the faint stench of chemicals still clung to my hair and clothes. Returning home, I think I've never felt as much of a failure as I did then.
The night ended, followed by day ,followed by night once more, and I realized (as I returned from another fruitless hunt) that I had no more food rations in my refrigerator. I felt hungry and chose to go to White's rather than waiting till the next day. I arrived late at his house. He hadn't replied the message I had sent by mobile phone, but that's happened before, so I thought none of it.
Just outside the door I could hear loud voices and noise, as if someone was fighting. I hurried inside and found a stranger hunched over White, who lay sprawled on floor. He was staring right at me, his eyes seeing nothing. I'm not sure if he was conscious.
I don't know why I didn't focus on the stranger sooner, but within mere seconds, she was standing on the terrace in the garden, closing the glass door. The stranger stopped, turned around and let me see her face clearly. It was the strange woman from the station. She was smiling at me. My reaction left much to be desired. It was as if I‘d forgotten every bit of training I ever had. I stormed to the door and smashed my hands through the thick glass, making the glistening shards rain down before the strangers feet. My bloody fingers grabbed hold of her collar. She simply laughed at me, laughed without making a sound. She was laughing inside my head. Her thoughts to me was just this "So very, very angry, aren't you? Calm down. You're nothing but a pet"
I felt the sting in my throat as she emptied the content of a syringe into my bloodstream. A feeling like an giant led wave came rushing over me. I remember fighting it with all my might, as I felt the burning sensation in my blood, blinking hard to stay focused and awake.
I lost the fight.
For a while the world grew dim. The sound of my name slowly brought me back and I woke curled up on the floor. Moving slowly, I tried to gain control of my limbs. I turned my head to the left and saw White lying not too far from me. He was whispering my name hoarsely. I crawled across the floor and sat up with some difficulty. White was looking very pale and the carpet beneath him was dark and wet. He started giving me instructions to where I could find a safe. He gave me the code and said something else. I'm not sure if I heard it correctly, but I think he said "There's no need for keeping it secret" and then he was still. It was as if a light went out in his eyes, they became empty.
How should I react to this. My hands were bloody and hurt like hell. I felt tired, and dizzy, and angry that this woman had done this to me and White. And there was something else. A sharp, but pleasant scent was itching in my nostrils. I felt hungry. Looking at the blood on the floor, touching it, I made it mix with my own blood. I tasted it.
Something rushed through me, an energy and a sudden realization, that what I've been living off of, was this. It had to have been human blood. I felt confused. I wanted to get out. Right away. But first, the safe.
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I'm now sitting with three files. One is labelled G.R.A.E, and the second is labelled M.I.S.T. The last one bears my own name; G.H.O.S.T
I have read my own file. I'm at a loss. I am like GRAE, no... I AM GRAE, in a sense. My genes are copies of his. The file clearly states that I am a copy, and my purpose of being is to retrieve GRAE. There is hundreds of pages filled with scientific language, and I don't understand them. The file on this M.I.S.T states exactly the same, a creature made of his genes. A soldier created to track down GRAE.
I have yet to read the file on GRAE. I need to rest first.
I need to think.
