Below are the 2 most recent journal entries recorded in acolyte_avarice's InsaneJournal:

Saturday, November 21st, 2009
11:57 pm	A woman screamed out into the darkness of the detention center. She was crying out in protest, screaming blood curdling fits of rage that Darryn was not quite sure echoed in the depths of his mind or if it was reality that this woman just happened to sound so much like his wife. Had his mind fabricated the voice in his longing for her? Created such a tone so full of hate because his heart was filled with guilt? Or was there really a crying woman who just mirrored the feelings he knew Mara held deep within her through their dwindling empathetic connection? As the days had gone by he felt the connection he had to his wife dampen and the hole in his heart widen. He felt a piece of his soul, a piece of his humanity, a piece of himself die. He was losing himself to madness and he knew unless he saw her he would into insanity. If it wasn’t for Jadda he would have gone mad already. He was even starting to look like a mad man. Darryn’s hair was starting to grow out again. It’s straight, thick shining brown fullness fell messily into his darkened green eyes. Eyes that were once so vibrant and full of life. They’d since lost their spark. Being away from Mara for so long had taken it’s toll on him. His cell was filled with rotting food the Jedi provided. He refused to eat. His body was withering away. As of presently he hung his head, clawing at his forearms with his nails, drawing lines of blood over and over, remembering what it felt like to have her in his arms. He sat their shaking but not a single tear would fall. He could not cry because he knew he deserved every once of pain he caused himself. And if she should come and be angry with him, if she should come and cause more harm to him, he would let her. He would lay back and relish every moment of it. It was the little things that he missed now, how she would stare up at him with those beautiful eyes and tell him that she loved him without ever even speaking or thinking the words. It was just the look, just the glance that she conveyed such meaning. She assured him that she knew they would have each other forever, that they would be there for each other forever with just her eyes... yet here he was. Just the little things... like her soft, lean, cold fingertips in a warm bed. How she slipped them between his. It had been so long... and he’d abused their bed... but never again... he vowed... never again... Darryn loved her. She was the only one he had ever loved and as much as it terrified him. He would never let anyone stand in the way. He would murder before he would see that happen. And worse than murder. Nothing would keep him from her and he knew she would come for him. He just had to sit and wait. But how long would it take? She must have been very upset with him. Especially Eliza... He was sure if she didn’t come he would die in that cell... simply die. If she didn’t come then he would break himself out. And if he broke himself out... then he would come for her... and she wouldn’t want that... (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 21st, 2009
11:14 pm	Scribbled on a peice of paper in Darryn's office... “Sleepless nights so many sleepless nights… my head is spinning. Lost track of how many days … How many days I’ve gone without rest. Every day I lay in cold sheets, her face comes swimming into view. I see her and I reach out for her… but… she’s not there. It’s just a cruel trick of the eye. The hallucinations They are so damaging More damaging than any of the physical effects The tremors, the shakes, the sweating More damaging because I see her and it kills me… that I can’t have her. She’s dead to me… so close, but beyond my reach… a part of the reality, a part of the world of the living that I so deftly avoid. Sweet surrender… sweet peace… in syringe form.” Darryn laid down his pen, his worn, blood shoot eyes moved slowly over to a tiny melting cube, held over a flame. He watched the flame dance, the cube liquefy. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips. He reached up and grabbed the empty syringe from the table top and stared at it. He placed the needle in the metal saucer holding the melting cube and took up all the liquid from it that the syringe would hold. He flexed the muscle of his left arm several times, watching the veins being pushed to the surface. Then he placed the needle by his skin near the joint of his elbow, where the other track marks were and he tried his best to steady his hand. He pressed the needle into the skin, whimpering at the pinching pain of thin metal piercing his flesh. Immediately the yellowy translucent liquid in the syringe was clouded with the red flow of his blood. His mouth parted and he gasped, moaning at the feeling of the warm liquid being pushed into his blood stream as he injected himself with the heroine. He moaned again, feeling his eyes rolling back into his head and felt his body instantly relax. The cigarette fell from his mouth and onto his arm. He watched it burn the flesh there but he could not feel it. He was numb now, numb and listless. He’d lost all control of his body which slumped back in the chair. His head lulled backward, eyes rolled into their socket, needle hanging from his forearm. (Comment on this)