They're not listening to me.
Rather, Peter, the boy. He isn't.
I told him, no more internet. It's a trap they're all fucking falling into. The blogging is a compulsion. It's a symptom of the sickness. Tear the willow out by the roots. He needs to stop but he's not listening to me. Nothing.
Daddy's much more dangerous here. I'd read about his little friends but I'd never actually faced any. Sometimes Peter or Natalie think they spot one when we're somewhere more than a few days. But few deaths. Not like the bad old days. Daddy's on our heels, but he was
no. I came here for a reason. Answers.
In other news, I'm running low on pills. I've been taking antihistamines for the allergies every day. Strong ones. Prescription ones. We need to stop somewhere with a drugstore.
Look at me, blogging away. I know, such a hypocrite.