Stitches and fangs

So... my life seems very normal. I just wash dishes and drink tea, chat with Bee and hunt once every night. But nothing big, just a small sip.

Bee took me to her doctor. She said she couldn't stand seeing my hands like this anymore, and told me I was very irresponsible to neglect my body like this. I tried to explain, that I didn't have a doctor, and she rolled her eyes, called her own and explained the matter.
Bee's doctor is a nice lady. She looked my hands over and said I needed to get stitches, and that I had some infection. She also told me it was good that I had listened to Bee. It could have ended up really bad.
So the lady gave me local anesthetics. Nothing wild, just so my hands wouldn't hurt too badly.
I was, kind of, fascinated with the curved needle, as it's point disappeared into my skin, only to emerge shortly after. It only took her some ten minutes... maybe less. She glued the smaller cuts together.
I'm amazed that you can glue people back together. Like when Bee dropped her cup, and glued back the handle with superglue. I mentioned the event, and both Bee and the doctor laughed. Not a mean laugh, mind you, but a warm laughter. Made me laugh too. I haven't laughed before. At least, I don't think so. It was strange, like something bubbling inside me, welling up, escaping my mouth. Bee smiled at me... I think I looked a bit surprised.

Bee keeps calling me trendy. She noticed my canine teeth, and asked if I’d gotten them fixed in Germany. I pretended not to have heard the question clearly. She repeated the question and added "Yeah, I once read an article about a girl who was into the gothic scene, and that she had gotten her fangs made at a dentist’s in Germany, specializing in vampire fangs. Did you go to Germany for those?" She pointed at my mouth.
I only hesitated for a second "Yes. That's right; I got them made in Germany. You like them?"
"I'm too old for all these new trends. But yes, I think they suit you"
So... that's really my explanation from now on. That I'm into vampire roleplay. Bee didn't mention the bit about the roleplay, but I checked it out on the web, and it seems there's quite a big community(of a wide range of ages) out there that seems to enjoy, pretending to be a sort of creature of the night, someone who dies in the light of the sun, and needs blood to live. Sounds kinda like me, but my story is less romantic, I think. Plus... it's a bit silly to run around in evening dress all night.
They're even divided up into "clans" some "fighting" each other. Weird. But it's a good way to explain my teeth... now I only need to figure out a way to explain my hair.

Bee calls me a mad Beethoven too. I need to look into that.

Ghost, the dishwasher

I've rented a room close to the center of the city. It's small, but nice, and placed so far above the streets, that sounds get muffled. I have a view of a park. I like it. I can see people running around down there, and mothers walking with the little mobile cradles in which their offspring sleep happily. I can pay the rent with the pay I get from washing dishes.

I got the job by accident actually.

I was in this small café, not too far from my new home, drinking sweetened tea. I was thinking about White, and, I guess, feeling sorry for myself. Suddenly this man comes running past me, out the door of the café, quickly followed by an angry woman. She was shouting at the man, telling him to never come back.
Then she turned and looked at me "Can you believe the nerve of some people?! I caught him red handed, stealing from the cash register!" She gestured wildly, trying to emphasize her words "And now I don't have any staff.... You wouldn't happen to need a job, would you?" she looked at me with hopeful eyes.
I looked at my cup of tea "Uhm... yes?"
She smiled "Good! You can start right away. The pay is 60 kr. an hour. You DO have time to start now, don't you?" she seemed a bit desperate, so I just nodded, finished my tea and followed her out into the back of the café.
She looked me up and down, then shook her head "Your hands look gruesome! You should get that fixed at the doctor's. But, but, but, no worries, you're wearing rubber gloves here anyways. Your job is to make sure to clean everything that I put out here. Clean and neatly stacked. If anyone drops something, I'll probably be calling and then it's your job to clean it up too. Understand?"
I nodded and looked around.
"So, what's your name young man?"
I hesitated, then remembered my cover name "Benjamin. But you can call me Ghost if you like"
She laughed "Ghost huh? Cuz of your hair, right? Amazing what you trendy, young people come up with, when it comes to hair and fashion. Oh well, there's the dishwasher. Most of the things can go in there. But you'll have to wash the glasses by hand, they look better that way. The soap is over by the sink, and in this cupboard you can find new supplies of soap, gloves and what not"
A bell rang from out in the café. The woman stretched out a hand towards me "Ok, I gotta get back out there. My name is Barbara, just call me Bee. Welcome on board, I trust you can find your way around out there? You'll get your pay at the end of the day. Just ask if you have any questions"
I gave her a smile and a nod as we shook hands, and then she left me alone in the backroom.
Left with my own thoughts, I found a pair of rubber gloves and got them on with a bit of difficulty. The hot water stung slightly, but after a minute or so it started to feel very nice.

The work was really easy, and I got to drink all the tea I wanted. Now I'm home again and 240 kr. richer.
I have to go there tomorrow again. I'm actually looking forward to it. Bee is really friendly, and she talks so much that I don't need to talk much myself. It's good to have someone around.
She keeps calling me Benji and says I'm so trendy, that she's amazed I want to work for her. I've just figured out what the word means after checking with a dictionary I bought yesterday.
'One who is drawn to, and represents, the latest trends'
Erh… I don’t think that applies to me. I have yet to see anyone with this strange hair of mine. It's back to a greyish white once again.
Hmm. Bee has told me to come with her to her doctor, so he can fix my hands. I doubt he can do anything about it though, they won't heal.

I think someone has finally seen this journal. Someone left a comment. I'm not sure if it was written to spite me or if it really is someone who cares about my state of mind... time will tell, I guess.

I need to get out now, I'm hungry. My wounds drain my energy, but already now I know how to drink a little at the time. It's so easy, they don't even notice me.

The chosen road

Enough time has gone by, and I've settled down once more. It's time to confess.

I have taken a life.
I killed a young boy. Not more than 16 years old, I think. I'm not sure how I ended up where I did. I don't remember much of it. I only remember afterwards clearly.
My eyes suddenly regained their focus, and my mind was no longer clouded. Something felt heavy in my arms and the rusty taste of blood was on my lips. I looked down into a gaping wound, the throat almost gone. There was no life left in this child that I still held close to me. I screamed, letting go of his body, staring at the corpse as it collapsed heavily to the ground. The grotesque image seemed to burn itself a permanent place in my mind.
I turned away and started running. I ran for more than an hour. When I finally stopped, I realized I didn't know where I was. It looked like the capitol, but it could be anywhere. I couldn't possibly have taken the train in the previous mental state that I was in. So where was I? I began to walk. Aimlessly looking for anything recognizable. A faint red light, shining like a distant beacon, leading me closer, and I finally saw the giant red and white sign, telling everyone that here was a train station. No one was on the platform, as I looked at the dark blue sign with the name "Hellerup" written in white print.
I looked at the map showing the different train-routes. I was more than two hours away from home, if I had been walking. I'm sure I could not have taken the train to this place. If I had, how come I hadn't attacked any passengers? Had there been none and if so, why hadn't I attacked the train-driver?
A digital bell rang and I realized, that the next train towards home, had stopped at the platform. I walked through the doors and leaned up against the window, as the train started moving.
A girl in the coupe was staring at me. I turned so I faced the window directly, seeing my own reflection. Blood was smeared around my mouth and dark stains decorated my shirt. I tried wiping it away, but my bandaged hands didn't help. The gauze was a dark, rusty red colour and stiff. Red powder fell from it when I moved my hands. I gave up on cleaning my face, and just hunched over a bit, turned towards the doors and away from the glaring lights, hoping no one else would notice.
A little more than half an hour later, I arrived at home with only one thing on my mind. I had to get out of there. "Inside" would quickly find out that White was dead. They would look at his wounds and think it was me. They would also hear about the death of the boy. I would be just as hunted a creature as GRAE. I packed my things while trying to device a plan. My phone was gone. I must have lost it at White's, or maybe during my blind run through the city. There was really no apparent way I could get in contact with "Inside" and tell them of the events. There would be no mercy, I knew that much. I found the three files and stuffed them in my bag and I left.

I'm in a hotel right now. I have withdrawn as much money from my bank-account, as I can. Now I need to figure out what to do.
I won't stop my hunt for GRAE. My reasons for tracking him down, however, have changed. I need to find him. He's the reason I am this way. I'm copy, so I have the same bloodlust. The same urge to kill, so he must know why. I wonder why “Inside“ even dared to let me loose upon the world. If GRAE won't give me an answer, I will kill him and deliver his body to "Inside". Then they can do with us, whatever they wish.
I have to know what I am. I think I hate him. I haven't felt hate before, so I'm not sure if this feeling is hate. It's a dark, vicious sensation. I blame him. When I think of him I feel sick, not physically, but mentally.

I don't know who this MIST is, and right now, I don't care.
My hands hurt less, but they have not healed. My hair on the other hand, has turned an odd shade of rust. Some of it is completely white again. Well, the hairdresser did say that it wouldn’t take colour that well.
Something is different. It may be that I have experienced something awful, but I feel different. My mind is clearer. I am not sure why. New words and feelings have presented themselves to me within such a short amount of time. I wonder if it is the blood that does it? And what about the blood? I cannot let this frenzy happen again. I have to feed. But will I be able to feed without killing, without destroying my victim?

I am no longer who I was

...

I have done hideous deeds

I am not who I am

...

I didnt goout yesday hands hurtand hunger. i needtofeed Ihav e to go outand find food. Cant' stay inside anymore ..Must find foodfeel i weak feel need food smeel is drivng me insaen I mustfind the source will find grae later when Ive foundmustgonoow

No choice

... I've decided....

My hunt continues, because if I do not try to capture GRAE, if I do not try to fulfil my purpose, then what am I good for? I'll go outside as soon as my wounds have healed.

....

My hands hurt, and the hunger is driving me crazy. I fear going outside. A new scent has presented itself. A scent that begs me to react. It has infested my world.


I hunger.

Crossroads

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.
---------------------------------------------

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.

Strangers

It's raining. It suits my mood.
I realise now that I don't notice the people around me, as much as I did the first days outside. They smell, and make the same relentless noise, but somehow I have grown accustomed to it. I just don't bother with it anymore. No more need for the perfumed scarf.
Rain. I've never actually experienced rain before. It's beautiful. It cleanses the air, makes me wish I could somehow take deeper breaths. But somehow rain affects my mood. I guess it emphasises the feeling of failure.
Tonight, in a dark alley near a loud nightclub I saw a woman being ravaged. Thinking about it now, I believe I should have done something, but at the time I found it unimportant. She was crying and she saw me, even as she was trying to push the guy away. She saw me and pushed her mental pleas of rescue at me. I turned away, but the images stayed.
My reasons now seem wrong, but they are the only truth; I'm not here to save humanity from itself. I'm here to stop GRAE. He's an unnatural element in this world. A virus. A parasite.

I don't think I'll catch him alive.

Something strange occurred, as I walked through the centrals station tonight. A woman looked at me. That is not the strange thing, lots of people notice me. I look different. No, she only looked at me for a moment, from across the hall, and the oddest feeling came over me. So simple, so unnerving.
She felt wrong. I cannot say anything else, other than her only though to me was "white" and she thought it with such a strange mix of warmth, care and evil.
Evil... I'm not sure why I choose this word. She was there and then she wasn't.

I wish this train would go faster, I want to get home.

No more

I was out all night yesterday. I'm not sure why I can't sniff him out. GRAE has turned out to be a much more difficult target than anticipated. I can't figure him out. He has no apparent pattern.
But I must catch him.
I was briefed about another kill. A young couple. Found drained, in an alley.
They do not say it, but I know They are disappointed with my lack of progress.
Maybe I spend too much time with White? Too much time on trying to learn?
I'm too self-absorbed, that must be the answer.

I won't go visit White tonight.

Tea and chess

And once again I'm on the train.
I've been out for more than a week now and still not a single sign of GRAE.
I look up I an see the man who's monologue whisper is disturbing my concentration. I say monologue because he's sitting by himself.
I've spent a lot of time with White. He has taught me extremely much. Nothing wild, but just small, ordinary things that I need to know to function out here.
I finally understand how to use my credit-card, a great accomplishment in my opinion.
We've talked a lot, White and I. It turns out that he wants a more close connection, just like I do.
I now know that he's 41, never married, with no children, and that he never found time for it because of the job.
I guess he needs someone to share his thoughts with just like I do. He seems to find comfort in talking with me, even though I know so little about life.
He has taught me to play a game called chess. It didn't take me long to figure it out and I can beat him every time now. I don't though, I enjoy the game even though I can read his next move. I don't have to win. We play chess, listen to Tchaikovsky and drink tea. Actually a quite pleasant drink, even if it is a bit tame, and provides me nothing.
White says these activities is gentleman-like. I'm not sure what a gentleman is. I'll have to ask him tonight.

Phone calls

It's amazing that even with all the training I've had, all the things I've learned, I still know so very little.

White has given me a mobile phone so that he can always get in touch with me. I know all it's functions and it's the only phone I need.
Still my apartment has a stationary phone. I've never used it, but since White told me I need it to establish contact and relations to the Outside, I don't worry about it.
This morning this phone rang. I picked it up. Some lady, on the other end of the line, was asking to speak with the man of the house?
"I am he" I replied.
"Oh... Have you ever thought about trying our newspaper; Information?"
"Information? Why?"
I could hear her hesitate "Because we give you a different view of the world"
"Oh do you have special information in this... newspaper? Something I need?"
"Yes! We bring you the naked truth" she sounded like she was back on track.
Is the truth naked? Or Normally dressed? She confused me.
"I need information on where I can find GRAE" I told her.
"Yes" she replied.
Amazing, a paper that knew his whereabouts!
"Well, we have had an article on the gay community in Denmark"
"Gay?"
"Well... you know, the homosexual part of Danish society"
"H...homosexual?" It began to dawn on me, that she and I were talking about different things.
"Homosexual. When a person is attracted to his or her own sex. Look, you brought it up" She was angry with me now. She seemed embarrassed.
"No, I asked if you knew where GRAE is. G. R. A. E"
"Look, I don't know what a grae is. Perhaps you do not need our newspaper. Goodbye"

Why would a complete stranger call me to offer me something?

Agent White

I met up with my contact today. He asked me to call him Agent White, or Mr. White if nothing else.
An odd name, I wonder if it is a codename, like mine. But he's a superior officer, I have no right or reason to question him about such irrelevant matters.
He gave me rations for four days. The blood bags are in my briefcase now, safe within the cooling system and airtight lock. Still, I have to be careful, I can't have them break.
Agent White had no new information to give me regarding G.R.A.E. and so our meeting was short. I wish I could have talked with him some more. He's my link to Inside. I don't have to pretend around him.
But then again. To him, I'm an agent too, a professional, and professionals don't ask to sit down and chat over a cup of coffee, or in my case, a glass of cooled blood.
I didn't study White's house. I remember no specific details, so I'll have to do that next time he and I meet. It's quite important that I remember details like that. It trains me, keeps me sharp.

I'm staying out tonight. Going to study some of the nightclubs in this area that young people seem to like.

I have to learn to move around in this world. Even if I hate it.

Lust

The alarm clock woke me this morning from a dreamless sleep. The best kind of sleep.
There's not really much to tell about my morning. I spent it reading a bit of G.R.A.E.s file. I need to memorize it. I'm supposed to make my lodgings look normal. What IS normal? A bunch of home accessory catalogues has dumped through the weird narrow opening in the door.
I looked through them. They’re so messy and full of colours. Humans are so chaotic.

As I'm writing this down in my journal, I'm in a train towards the capitol. My guts tell me this is where I'll find him.
"My guts tell me" My contact says this all the time. A weird thing to say. Guts don't tell anything, they make occasional sounds when you're hungry or digesting. Guts don't think or speak. I wonder who came up with such a remark?

There's no one sitting next to me or right in front of me, I have my own private space. Loud talk is disturbing my thoughts though. There's a couple sitting in the seats on the other side of the isle, by the window. Their feet inside their shoes, resting on the seat in front of them.
The woman is clearly under the influence of the stinking liquid in the bottle she drinks of so greedily. The man is laughing hoarsely, pushing his bag away a little, to lean closer to the woman, his careless movement making the bottles hidden in the bag ring.
Their smell is horrid, I can smell their lust for each other, their desperate attempt to be younger than they are.
She's kissing him, placing her painted sticky lips on his sacking cheek.
I know the other passengers has noticed the noisy couple and still they just ignore it, like some twisted idea of politeness.
I'm starring at them. I think the woman has noticed. Yes, she just smiled at me with that shiny mouth, revealing yellow teeth. I know her man hasn't noticed me. It's uncomfortable, I feel exposed, I'm not supposed to be noticed. But how can I not? I'm so clearly different from most Outsiders, with my white hair and gaunt features.
She... she thinks I'm a drug-addict... what is that? She finds me pretty?!
The train is slowing down, the couple is leaving the compartment. They're getting of at the next stop.
What a relief! I don't like it when people broadcast so clearly that I hear their thoughts.

I'm getting of at the next stop. I need air.

Smells

First day outside...
Trains are an odd invention. Odd, but convenient. They take you from point A to point B rather quickly. Much easier than if I had had to walk all the way. I'm not allowed to drive, but if I call my contact, he'll drive me to where I want.
But, back to trains.
The reason I find them odd, is in the sense that people sit or stand closely together, and yet they're able to ignore each other perfectly. I suspect they're unable to smell each other, to feel each other so strongly. Whereas I today felt like screaming, because the man sitting opposite me accidentally brushed his knee against mine. I can still feel the tingling sensation on my skin.
It's so late now, I waited at the station for several hours, not being able to force myself to walk down the stairs to the platform and get on the train. So many people! All pressed tightly against each other, all wanting to get on the train first, impatient and rough.
I can't stand all the smells! Women and their strange artificial smells, sweaty men, old people smelling of decay, and weird men smelling horribly and dressed in clothes so dirty and old that I can smell ten other people in it's stench.

Do people really live with all this touching and all these horrible smells??

I can't stand it! I feel ill when outside. I've bought a scarf to wrap across my nose and mouth. It protects me a bit against the smells, but not enough. Tomorrow I'm going to go use my credit card and buy some synthetic scent to spray into the scarf. I think it will protect me against the filthy air even better then.

I want to find G.R.A.E. quickly, I hate it out here... I want to go home. I want to get back Inside.

Outside

I have been set loose upon the World. They told me about the outlaw, how he escaped.
For weeks they have let me read through his files, to learn his habits. I expect there is more files, but they have not presented me with any, and I won‘t question my superiors.
They tell me he is out there, attacking people. Killing them. Killing innocents. They say he attacks at random, choosing his victims on a whim. They tell me he has given in to his animal instinct.

So for a month I've have been studying him on paper, trying to get to know him. They have sent me to retrieve him. No one else has the strength. There only reason for me to be out here. Outside. I have to find him and stop him.
Of course they want him back if they can. But I have been authorized to kill him if I see no other option.

My name is Ghost. At least that's as close to a name as I'll ever get. I guess it refers to my role in this mission. This hunt. I'm here to move unseen in public, to sniff him out.
I've been given ID-cards, credit cards, a place to stay and a contact who will provide me with food.
I need the blood just as much as my target does, but I am no animal.
Money will be placed in my account every month, for as long as it takes for me to track him down.
I'm not sure how I'm supposed to blend in. It seems there is no order or control in this "real world". Nothing inside was this chaotic.

I've decided to keep this logbook to keep track of my progress in finding my target, the outlaw G.R.A.E.