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I had found myself standing between Taco. Dusk. Sun setting behind the blinds of my office window.
There was...blood, if I recall correctly? Yes. Blood.
That oozing, crimson, and familiar liquid. Blood. Yes. Blood.
It was pooling out of something. Someone? Something...
It was green, and on the floor. And I remember being very shocked and disturbed, and I remember having one of my hands out to hold Taco back. I think it was my left hand. .....No... Yes, it was my left. I think it was my left hand. It was my left, I think? Yes.
That green thing was sprawled out with a knife deep in its throat. Its hands were spread out like they had struggled with the object lodged inside of them.
It was then Taco whispered into my ear: "Your fault."
"Your fault, OJ. Your fault."
That is the clearest thing in my memory. Whatever happened there was my fault.
I don't know why I remember this. I don't know where it comes from, or what exactly happened in that memory. However, that memory is mine. And whatever happened in that memory was my doing. My doing. Mine alone. Yes. Mine alone. My fault. Yes. That is the clearest thing in my memory.
Oddly enough, I haven't told anyone about this. Not that I know of. This journal is mine. Just like that memory. Mine alone. Mine.
Looking back on the pages, I can't seem to find that memory. Not when nor where nor why it occurred. Part of me hopes it to be a false memory. Like I am remembering something that isn't mine. But Taco said as clear as day: "Your fault, OJ". It has been engraved into my brain. I cannot explain it.
Looking back on the pages, the only reason I kept this journal is because Paper wanted me to. I wrote, in the first entry, how he worried about my amnesia, when I explained that I was stressed over the fact I consistently found myself unable to recall whether or not I had run the laundry from last week. He suggested I keep a journal of my day-to-day life to help.
In any case, what happened there was my fault. Logic be damned, I must have killed Pickle for a reason.
I must have killed Pickle for a reason. I must have killed him for a reason.
Logic be damned, I killed Pickle for a reason.
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ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
HEAD. - An Inanimate Insanity Fanfic
KorkuInspired by auzipopz's "where's yo head at" animation. OJ sifts through his memory for answers of a murder. Only OJ knows what happened, but can he stay on the right moral path in time to figure out who killed Pickle? Or will he succumb to the lies...
