Okay, the blood thing is new. Just something that's been on my mind since I got that bug bite yesterday. Do I wanna journal about my stupid life? Or I dunno. Something else?

How about the fact that I've found out I'm not a disfigured and way too bloody tall human, but I'm actually an elf.

And get this. Apparently, there's a bunch more stuff like elves around that I just.. Never noticed? I don't know why I'm talking like anybody will ever read this. It was weird though. It was like a switch flipped after I was finally convinced about myself. I don't remember ever seeing floating little bits and bobs of light? I think I would remember that. They really like me. Yesterday, when I found myself falling asleep for no reason during a car thievary and they stole my cash. I never got it back.

Pixies. That's what my friend or teacher, I guess. That's what he told me. They're tiny little fae that give off a constant warm light. To lure people in. Well, it worked on me. Little fuckers. I thought they were nice! They helped me break into a house to collect a loan payment. I think they just did it now cause it was funny to them.

It was all so much. It seemed after a bit with every pulse I threw up, and it kept going and going and I don't know what I was ejecting at first but then after a bit all I could taste in my mouth was the metal aftertaste you get from getting blood in your mouth. After a bit I think I was laying in a pool of it, my blood. It was slick and warm and disgusting and it tasted so good so good but I was stuck there. The pain kept me hostage.

I think that it's a good thing I was here alone, after teach walked out. Everyone else in the gang has a home to go back to. For me, this bed was my home. Now it was ruined by pulse after pulse of thrown up blood. More and more. It bled together after awhile but when I came to again it was to my own retches of finally nothing. I've never felt so cold then. I still feel so cold now, and it's hard to write like this. My hands feel numb from the cold and the amount of energy I probably went through.

This journal I was at least sentient enough to put up on my night stand, and I'm very glad I did. When I came to the first thing I did was look at my hands. They were covered in the stuff, but to be honest I didn't want to leave my bed cause it felt so warm against my cold and shivering body.

I did though. I got up, and I moved to the floor downstairs next to the fire to at least try and warm myself up. I'm preparing a hot bath now to clean myself off.. I don't know what I'm going to do with the bed, or how I'm going to explain what happened. I don't even know what happened.

I can tell you one thing, though. I keep cutting my lip from my canines. They're so sharp. The sun is gonna rise soon, which meant I spent all night in pain. I felt okay now, except for how hungry I was. My stomach rumbled in a way I had never heard before. I found myself growling with it. Scared me for a minute, thought there was a stray animal behind me but nah, just me.

I really didn't want to bother him again, not after what happened earlier. He heard me anyway on the way back down. Normally I'm super sneaky! Can't sneak my way out of not feeling well though. Heard me from a mile away. Saw my state and told me to come with him to the first aid. First aid? I remember scoffing though I didn't mean to. I never go to first aid unless I'm actually dying. He was so insistent though, and so scared that I felt I really had no choice.

It was all to just clean my face off with a little cotton ball and some stingy stuff. I don't really know what any of those things are, I can read now but the big long names still trip me up. Medical stuffs isn't me. I fight careful, and I'm almost never sick. Teach told me it was an elf thing, the almost never sick. Course I couldn't have gotten something cooler that could've protected me in schools before I buggered off that and learned to fight myself.

The smell died down after that, and I found myself finally less hungry. Though my stomach still growled when I was there. While I was eating some cheese too. Teach ignored it as best he could. At least he's trying now. I feel bad for how I felt earlier. Still, he gave me some cryptic warning about staying away from blood. When I asked him what he meant he just said nothing, of course. So I got angry again.

I think we had a fight then. I dunno, it's kind of blurry. He pulled something out of his jacket and I couldn't breath. I think he threw it behind him after. That's the thing about me. My hearing has always been too good. Most days before I started taking the good shit I'd get one hell of a headache from it. Now it's alright. I just figured I was coming down from a high. Either way he caught me and helped me sit down.

He told me that if I ever felt so hungry it hurt that I had to get as far away from here as possible. I think I scoffed again, but the hand he had on my shoulder after that distracted my tiny peabrain. Then, he repeated what he had said. So, I nodded. Asked him if there was anything in the supplies for a toothache, that was the one thing the drugs couldn't help. He only shook his head and told me to enjoy another high.

So here I am. Doing just that. My teeth still hurt pretty bad, but the rest of me feels alright right now. I'm writing this all while I'm laying down and watching the pixies create me a light show for the cheese I couldn't finish. I'm worried. I'm only going to tell you this, journal.. I'm right scared. Teach won't talk to me anymore, and I know I said it was coming down that caused me pain earlier but now I think it really was whatever he had cause he had it again and it hurt from even where I was. Math isn't my thing either. Maybe 10 metres away?

It was stupid, I knew it was. But I was just already in such a bad mood at that made it so much worse. His little groupies were on me in a heartbeat after that. Fucked me up pretty bad, but it's nothing a hit couldn't help pain-wise. I wonder if I would've died if my friend hadn't stepped in. She's with him now. I walked in on them the other week going at it. Maybe that's another reason I've been so angry at everything. She was mine, before I found that out.

Guess she felt guilty enough to save my stupid ass. Even got him to let me stay here and rest. I wanted to spit in her face as well. Nasty, the lot of them. I joined this stupid gang because of her, and she goes and does this.

Now I'm just here, bloody nose getting on this page. First time I've been hungry in like two days but I've already eaten so much food that any more and I swear I'll explode. I'm still so hungry though..

I had the time to ask my teacher in all this weird world stuff about the stranger and what happened with the pixies. I dunno. Something changed after that. He looked scared. Like if he made any sudden movements I was gonna kill him. I wouldn't though. I don't even know if I could in my state. Still, seeing him act like that toward me. It made my blood boil. I never even bothered giving him time to say anything else. Curiousity be damned, I didn't actually want to hurt him but the look made it really hard to resist.

I don't know who else to go to, really. It's night now and I'm not tired anymore but I'm still feeling like shite. I want to go for a walk but I feel watched. Like, bad. I'm worried it's that stranger. I'm worried they're waiting to strike. I can't take that, especially not high as a bloody kite.

I woke up to my once recently girlfriend and once best friend gasping and gurgling for air in front of me, her throat torn out. The worst bloody part of it was the smell, Journal. She smelled like citrus. Like the oranges in the stall we poor alley rats could only afford to steal. Even looking was too expensive. I hate to say this.. I do. But it fit her. It fit how bloody rich she had been, and the ploys she had done through privelage. How it was okay to lure the poor to action through her status and body.

But it's not nice to talk ill of the dead. That's what my bloody parents taught me, anyway. I think I'm just having a hard time processing this. All of this. My clothes are covered in blood and the edges of you, journal, don't fair well either. It didn't soak too much in, everything is still legible. I care more about you than any of them. I think that's the sign where you finally went insane.

I've always been on the edge of it, thought I was there before but now I know better. They're all dead. Every single one. My old friend.. I put her out of her misery. Even she didn't deserve to die so slow.

I'm not hungry anymore.

Should that relieve me? It smells so bloody good in here. There's no metallic taste in the air. No feeling like wretching at the strength of it all. If anything, I want to drool.

How many more people am I going to hurt in the future? Is the angel going to get mad? Was this curse all a way to get me to do something so bad that he had an excuse to kill me? The curse. It's funny in a way. This stupid curse is all I have left now. I have to get out of here, Journal.

I have to leave, and I have to find that angel.

What am I even going to do when I find him? Plead? Beg for my life back? For the curse to be removed?

The night is coming, and I feel stronger now than I ever have. I feel free. Alive. I'm laughing while I write this, it's making my text a little hard to read but I can't stop. I can't stop. I'm free. He's dead. She's dead.

It's actually a little hard to write now and I apologize to anyone in any future who might find this journal and skim through and get invested only to get here and see this horrible scribbles substituting for words. Guess that's what happens when you have a curse spell on you and touch the thing that your eyes clearly tell you 'it will hurt' to. I just needed to see and be sure. Are you ready for another bloody analogy, journal?

When I put my hand into the light, what happened was.. Slow. Like, I can explain it kind of in detail. Kind of. Firstly, it felt like my arm was in water with how much pressure there was. Like my presence there just turned it to a thick liquid. I guess like blood. Cause that's thicker than water. It stayed like that for a few seconds and then just like with my eyes it.. It moved to avoid my touch. Like the fish analogy, except more literal. It was an experience. I felt awe. Until I didn't..

Because then it attacked me. Like those little biting bugs that love the water. It swarmed my hand, and it attacked. I know we like to give personages to things to make us feel better but journal, it actually attacked me. It started tearing into my skin and it burned and.. I won't go into that much detail because, again, I don't want to think about it. Not now and not later and not ever.

I screamed. Of course I did, the shock was too much and it bubbled out of me. Loud. Loud enough that it stung my ears and through ringing and my own loudness I could hear feet calling themselves to attention. I got my hand out then. The sound of the gang knowing was what did it. I'm glad I did, because I think if I stayed any longer I would have lost my hand.

I did the thing you do when you have years of experience of running and hiding and making sure things you had weren't taken by the bobbies. It's a blur, an instinctual get the bloody hell out blur. I grabbed the journal, my drugs, and a clean sheet to wrap my hand in as best as I could and then I ran.

Which maybe was stupid because the only way to run was straight into the angry and scared eyes of my fellow gang members. They were pissed and I don't blame them. I was pissed too, at myself for doing this. If I wasn't feeling so ill and weak I could take them. But I was sick and my hand was almost taken off by the bite of the sun and I was so hunngryy that I was dizzy. So then there was me and there was three guys wondering what in the bloody fuck happened for me to 'scream like such a little girl' and I smiled and- I used the oldest drug addict excuse in the book. The one that makes you get sad and pitied eyes. I told them it was just a bad trip.

And it worked. Because, as it's well understood here. As I made very clear when I arrived. My drugs are mine. They are mine and I need them and if they are touched, the person who touched it will die. They got it alright, even if I had to put on a show to make sure of it. Just like they got it now. Just as they backed up and remembered the way I made an example of a short stacked beefcake of a man named Timmy the Oogler. Nobody questioned my addictions anymore.

Except one. The youngest one there. The stupidest but the kindest. He stepped a bit forward and puffed out his chest and said 'Man, you seen how pales you are today? Think you're gonna kills youself.'

See now but here's the thing. I handn't. All day since I woke up I never once even looked at myself in any mirrors or payed attention to my hands or arms or legs. I didn't want to. I still don't want to, I didn't want to know what else this angel curse had done to me. Especially not in front of three men who would absolutely kick the shit out of me the second I showed any sign of weakness. So I just smiled and made myself look crazy and said 'I am dying, so let me go and enjoy my last meal before I kick the shit out of you.'

So then here I am. Hiding out in the kitchen. The food smells horrible. It all smells so rotten and gross. Making my skin crawl, but it's safe for a little bit longer. There's no windows. I'm so tired. Maybe a nap now that I got this down. Adrenaline will probably have me forgetting the second I relax. Which is now.

So I stay in this corner by my bed, now ruined beyond probably any repair. The blood is still dripping off and it's making that distracting every second dripping sound. Like rain, but thicker. Something unusual your brain pays attention to because somehow it knows it's not water. I know it's not water. It's not tea either, though I can clearly smell the cinammon and the ginger. It's making me sick, but I feel too hurt and disgusted and hungry to move anywhere and risk running into anyone. Shame burns as much as the actual burn does.

There's only one window in this room and I'm right by it. Used to wake me up in the mornings aiming right at my face. It makes me feel things now, looking at it. Reminds me of the first time I went to school. My mother dressed me prim and proper with a little bow tie. A red one. It was the first thing they took from me. It felt like that again. Like whatever happened to me ripped that red bow tie off and held it over my head and laughed and laughed. Even looking at that shaft of light sent such horrible pain through my head from my eyes. It was like.. How do I describe this, journal? How can I make you get this.. It was like chasing a fish in the water and almost catching it but then it slipping away from you. That's what my eyes did looking into the light from outside. It was like I could see but I couldn't touch it with my eyes. Like it was sharp scales cutting them up for trying to catch it and keep it still. It avoids me, slithering aside. It makes me feel so angry. I can't catch light? What kind of fisherman am I?

When I went to confront the big boss about it, I was still so shaken up about the sun thing that I can tell I was so nervous he'd see through me. I know for a fact I was covered in sweat, but my heart wasn't beating that hard. I'm pretty good at keeping a straight face in danger, and I was probably overreacting like I always do in my head.

I've been called a savant before, when it comes to combat stuff. Stupid as a brick for everything else, but I'm an ace at fighting. Swords, my tanbo, knives, throwing daggers.. Hand to hand. I'm very good at them all. Couldn't tell you how to do anything else though. Especially how to not overreact at things I think are dangerous but aren't. That's a big one, I've ended a lot of innocents cause they looked at me funny and I thought it was a threat. My friend always laughed when I did. She's as bad as the pixies are. No, I'm beginning to think the pixies are better. At least they helped me in some way.

I've done a lot of high thinking since I got back. If I had never gone out that first night with my friend, would I have ever killed anything? I mean.. No, well.. I am happy with where I am, somewhat. I only regret the gang. Me before, I spent my time crying and sniveling and letting myself get beaten up. I think I needed that switch flip. I think I like myself now, at least a little bit.

I did see teach, earlier. He put his hand on my shoulder again, and I think he was this close to hugging me. He knew better though. I hate physical contact that's not sexual, and it's something he figured out after trying to wrap an arm around my shoulder when we first met. Punched him square in the bloody nose, I did. I do ramble when I'm high. At this rate I'll run out of pages. Anyway, he told me that it was nice knowing me. That was it. Then he was gone.

I'm back on my own again, that means. I lost my friend to the bloody boss of a bloody gang, and I lost my teacher in this cruel world to.. Me? I asked him if the angel had cursed him too but he didn't answer. I called him a coward for leaving me alone like this, he didn't answer.

I don't cry. I never cry. Not since my very first kill, when I broke down over it. Not even when I lost my girlfriend to the leader of a gang. Him leaving? I'll be honest with you and you alone, journal. I've been crying for hours now. Is this karma? I hate being left alone. More than halfway through my stash.

Maybe it's also the pain. The drugs helped before but now it can't even touch it. Everything hurts. My stomach really hurts. My teeth hurt the most. When I looked in the mirror just a few minutes ago, I could barely see myself. My eyes stood out though, they always do. It's nice and grounding, seeing them shimmer gold. It helped.