Richard Perry | Part Three

Journal Entry 12
July 23, 2011

    It has been weeks. Months maybe. Years even. Decades! I dont even know anymore. Time is going faster than expected. I cant comprehend what is going on outside. Everyday I hear more and more people getting beaten. I hear screams. Shouts. Cries. More and more pain. Its disgusting. Disgusting like this room. I have been forced to hide in an even smaller room. The room I was staying in was almost searched, and I needed to hide for next time. I had a friend help me, Miniriot, from before. He helped me dig a small box in the wall, just enough room for me to stand and sleep. I have one lightbulb above me and I can hardly see what I am writing. I am lucky to be alive in here. Im lucky I haven't gone insane. I haven't seen the light of day in 'who knows how long'.
   
    There are people outside my tiny compartment. They moved in just recently, seeing as it is now empty. The Combine searched the entire place before they moved in, and they didnt find me. Im hidden behind this move-able wall. Its very thin though, and I can hear everything. The people in my apartment talk about resisting against the Combine. But I know they wont last long. My wall is thin, and so are the floors and ceilings. There's bound to be a loyalist somewhere in this building. He will tell on them, and get them killed. Then, I might be found as well.
   
    I haven't seen Mini in a long time. Perhaps weeks. He stocked me up on food the last time he saw me. He said it would last me twenty days. I think its been thirty. I should be dead. All I have left is rice grains. And not a large amount of it either. Along with the small amount of food, is the hot weather. It has to be at least 90 degrees outside, and I'm inside. Of course theres no fan in here, so it's even hotter than the room next to me. I swear, If starvation doesn't kill me, the heat will. And if the heat doesn't kill me, the Combine will.
   
    I have been trying to keep quiet as much as I could, but It's not as easy. Right now, as I write, I am making tiny scribbling noises, which actually could be the death of me. All it takes is one noise for me to die. A few days ago, I fell backwards, hitting the wall pretty hard. It made a loud noise, but luckily, no one knew where it came from. I am getting increasingly lucky. Im not able to talk at all, even though sometimes I do. I talk to myself, which makes me think I might be going insane. I have conversations about when and If my friend will come back for me. If he forgot me. If he WANTED to forget me. Maybe he doesn't like me anymore, or doesn't want to deal with me. What a great friend, huh?
   
    Yesterday, I found a rat. It crawled through a hole that I didnt know was there. I grabbed it quickly in my hands, thinking it was trying to eat my food, but it wasn't. I was holding it in my hand and I thought to myself. I am the Combine. The Combine to the rat at least. I was staring at it's beaty red eyes and I thought this over. I am huge to the rat. I am more powerful than the rat. The rat lives off of little food, hoping to survive one more day. It scurries around the large world, hoping to find shelter, food, friends. I am the rat of this world. Except I am the rat that does not go into the open. Instead, I hide here in this little place, thinking of what could be.

    I might go outside tommarow. If I hear the people in my room leaving. I might just come out. I want to look outside the windows. Looking down at the city. I want to see human life. I want to move around. I am deciding right here and now, I will go outside tommarow. When the family is gone, I will leave this rat-hole. I will come from my hole, and peek outside. Maybe I can go outside. They won't know who I am, right? I'll go outside, smiling at the beautiful sun. Saying hello to everyone I see. I will make a ton of friends! I will finally be apart of the city! No. No I wont. No I cant. I cant be found. They are looking for me! Everyone is looking for me! I cant come out. I just cant. But... I will.

    My pen is running out of ink, so I'll finish off quickly. I want anyone who reads this at a later date, after my death, or before, to know one thing. I never stopped giving up hope. And I never will. I want you, the reader, to know this and hold it close. Never, ever, give up hope. I hope everyday for Mini to come back, or hoping the Combine will fall. Even though I dont think it will happen, I have not given up hope.
    Hope for the best.