Remaining stable.

Aside from an excruciating burn made the day of the interview we are feeling somewhat balanced for now. This weekend October's peak is upon us, and we plan to go to Disneyland as a way to reformat memories to the upcoming holiday. As of now, the day's recollections include abuse and Piers' passing, so a few annual trips to Disneyland will behoove us, I believe. In fact, we bought a new digital camera to capture the moments, and it is something so desperately needed right now, for everyone Inside.

Why this, in October?

It was unbelievably gut-wrenching. Statements were made that no one had yet spoken aloud until yesterday. Nausea persists and fear of retaliation from the Shadows looms near.

To give a statement.

Detective Demas. Where to begin? He called Wednesday past and we are to report to him today to give an incident report regarding the uncle. Of course, all turned to me and expected me to conduct it; how can I? He asks for the Host by name, and until I am given a subpoena I shall not interfere. Legally, I doubt that can even happen, and so the Host must comply on her own. We will of course stand close so as to not leave her, but it would be unethical to step in without proper authorization.

He did mention something specifically, however, that struck me as odd. The sister, who had called him to make the initial report, had told him about us and memory repression. Really, she told him entirely too much in that I am uncomfortable with an acting officer of the law knowing these things. I suppose it could be called memory repression to an extent, but some of us have always recalled some incidents and forgotten others. Memory work is a group activity. While one forgets another remembers, and be it by chance meeting, the memory will surface in time. Is that really repression? I could not answer that. I sincerely hope this interview goes well, as there are some questions that cannot possibly be answered straight away without conferring with one another. Even now we recall a different series of events for certain instances. It would be a pity should our story be found unbelievable due to inconsistancy. I want only for it to go smoothly and with as little debate as possible. I daresay it will be an exceedingly difficult afternoon.

A hatred inside.

I have spent time in the past day or so filing combat-related documents, and I came upon a few releases saved from interrogations. I feel torn with this aspect of my past as I deeply regret many of those actions, and yet I do not know if I would act any different now, in the same situation. It is a sterling truth that a man will likely do anything in his power to keep himself safe. Being safe and feeling safe are interwoven; one can be safe and feel unsafe, and the terror is the same. When I conducted many of those interrogations I felt unsafe, I felt invaded when in fact we were experiencing an invasion. Some say I acted out of desperation or a driving will to persevere. I wish it were so. However I believe there was an ounce of malice therein, something sinister hiding away in my demeanor. I could have been firm without resorting to cruelty. And I say that now, fully cognizant of my current situation and the situations in the past, I say that knowing full-well the consequences and I wonder if that would stop me from doing it again. Would I have the self-control to limit my actions? Or would I succumb to Mjollnir's way and give in to the darkest thoughts? I never want to be in that postion again; no one shopuld have to make such a decision. So many say that, if put in a position to choose their own life over another's, it would be simple: their own. But to conciously and actively make that decision and go through with it is something that deadens a soul just a little, and that bright spark fades only minutely, but it does fade. Making those decisions consistantly can erase a man's soul to such a point that the spark flickers and winks out completely and it happens, I assure you. I have seen it, dead men milling about, speaking in lowered tones and always fidgeting. The men who speak with their teeth driven deep into the filters of their cigarettes, the men who can never again fully rest with the knowledge their worn hearts now hold. I do not want to be that man, and I intend to keep that sense of self within me.

Comparison, to Before.

I feel it advancing, even now, the first tingling tendrils of the Spiral. Why they continue to haunt me, I do nto know. It has come to a point, actually, that I wonder if I am the only one who suffers so. After all, it seems to occur in an unnaturally frequent manner. At very least the cease-fire seems to be holding, and therefore there seem to be no new worries to add to the ever-increasing load.

And look at this: These petty troubles drill at me persistantly when, in reality, these are insignificant compared to Before. How is it we held up so much better then, and now crumble? Has our resolve weakened so dramatically? What has changed?

More questions of ownership.

We recieved several points to contemplate today. It would be lovely to really believe this, but I must keep my distance; the points illustrated to us seem altogether too convenient. It began with the mother, who expressed a desire to speak with us as a whole. It was supposed to be a personal meeting, but the topics came up whilst on the telephone, anyway. (Anyone knowing me personally knows also how I despise the telephone, so this was an interesting moment, indeed.)

I am uncertain how much she understands of the Shadows. Be that as it may, she was quite insistant that the uncle had no real powers of the occult or special favoritism with any of his chosen gods. She said that it was a clever ruse: the use of narcotics, persuasion, and trauma on a child already emotionally distraught. She further told us that if he really had these supernatural connections, the abuse would not have ended when it did; the Shadows would have sought us out and taken us by force. The Shadows do watch, and they maintain a presence, but it is true that they have not forcibly brought us back to him. I would like to think that her words are true. The idea that the Shadows have no power over us is comforting.

Later that evening, we attended the weekly Bible discussion group. Tannah brought forth a topic: "Can a person lose his soul to Satan, and keep it out of God's reach?" This, in essence, was based on the struggles we have had in recent weeks. The general consensus was a resounding "no", and that too was of tentative comfort; again, I hesitate to pull blind faith into that. I know what I saw, and I recall the rite vividly. Yet, it comes back to free-will. If God creates a soul, then only he can take it, they say. But if our soul was promised elsewhere, and God takes it back anyway, for what purpose has He given Man free-will? The entire thought perplexes me.