I don't know how long I have been in this room. It feels like a century has slipped by, but my reflection in the metallic door suggest it has been merely weeks. Screams of torment agonize in my mind as I stare at the task before me - an impossible task with only one outcome - death. If Death would come to me and carry me from this torturous place, I would welcome him with open arms. He will not come for me, he will come for another, another whose passing will cause my heart to break even further. There was once a time I didn't believe in the supernatural. I dismissed the strange book that came into my life as nothing but junk, and I considered the warnings that followed to be nothing but folklore. How could I have been so foolish to believe the eyes that peered into my mind were innocuous? Now, as I sit in my concrete cell with three boxes filled with unnerving contents, I can think of nothing else but the fortune teller's warning, he will hunt you, he will find you, he will claim you as his own. And, you will love him until you draw your final breath. I pray to God - any God who may be listening - to give me the strength and the power to fight. I know what lays before me, and I know it's going to take every ounce of strength I have.