Her fingertips browsed through the clusters of paper and ash, until her nails scratched through a leather surface. Eyebrows raised, she pinched the leather and pulled it out. It was roughly the shape of a book, covered in thick dust. With a soft blow, the particles swirled, the leather presenting the age corroded front cover. Mina’s hands shook with excitement, unable to hesitate, she opened the front cover of the journal, eyes fixed on the scribbles from the world-famous artist. “15/11/1972 I opened my eyes, it was all darkness I see, the freezing moonlight wiggled through the holes in my curtains, forcing me to notice my shaking hands. The headache attacked me again, once more.so intolerable, so painful that I couldn’t resist the will of hitting it against the wall. But something distracted me.what is that, lurking in the darkness I see? A monster, maybe, ready to hunt its prey, to rip my body apart and swallow.” the words are almost unable to be recognized, just like a toddler’s doodle type of font, as if to match his mess of mind. “17/11/1972, What have I done to deserve this.I see, I taste, I smell everyone’s hatred, everyone’s disappointment towards me, I’ve done nothing wrong, they hate me, no one talks to me, no one interacts with me, they think I’m no