My Hand

==Jan 14, 2013:==
Hello, I just wanted to jot this down somewhere I might get believed. My name is Kennith, and I wanted to have someone at least know what happened today. It's the day I finally get to use my right hand. Two months ago I fell down some stairs at school and landed on my right hand, causing most of the bones to break. I couldn't write or do much until today.
But Something odd happened while I was writing in my notebooks at school.
My hand seemed to twitch, at first I thought it was just my muscles getting used to me using my hand again, but it kept happening throughout the day. Then I looked at my notebooks again and saw something odd.
It had order.
Every seven words my writing scribbled off. But on different notebooks the order was different. On my Biology it was every four words, on my Math it was seven, and so on. It slowly went down to four, but then up to five or to seven, but then jumped to three again.
I dismissed this at the time, but now that I look back on it, it was so strange. Looking closer, and saw that the scribbles made little shapes. They connected and intertwined, such as little circles with lines through them or a 'H' they all formed something, but were completely unique.
Weird...
I'm going to sleep.
==Jan 15, 2013==
Oh my god.
'The hell is going on? I woke up with my arm wrapped around my neck! Not just awkwardly resting there like when you toss and turn in your sleep. It was wrapped tightly around my neck and bent sharply to be able to do so. My right arm of course was the arm that did it. 
It might not sound all too bad, and you might just think I'm overreacting, but imagine waking up and not being able to breath with something wrapped around your neck.
It's just freaky.
I also had the same twitching while writing, but it was more violent. It wouldn't calm down, it just got worse.
My hand rapidly moved to one side in the middle of writing, and sometimes it would tear holes in the paper.
I told my mother but she simply said, "The hand just finished healing, and your not used to it." I agreed because that did make sense, but nothing about this feels right.
Screw it.
I'm going to bed.
==Jan 17, 2013==
I know I didn't write yesterday, but that's because only the twitching happened. I'm starting to get used to it.
But something happened today. My right hand slapped my other arm.
Maybe there was a fly and I just automatically slapped at it, but I don't think that was it. It just randomly happened.
Not hard or violently or anything. My hand just kinda flopped over.
I'm still freaked out about all of this. 
==Jan 18, 2013==
HOLY SHIT.
I'm glad I'm typing, because I have been expelled from school because of my right hand.
I was called up to write on the main board. I was meaning to write out a theory, yet I wrote out:
"I HATE YOU, STUPID BITCH I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON A DILDO."
Yeah, not good, I know. I was scolded by the teacher, the guidance person no one really likes talking to, and the principal. Then My mother was called to come in, and I was expelled. My Mother screeched at me the whole way home, but I couldn't think or respond to her ranting and raving.
I was just staring at my arm. 
I was in shock.
What was that? was all I could think.
I have no idea what's going to happen about school, and at this point I don't think I care.
==Jan 19, 2013==
My family hates me now. They think I'm acting out.
They all came to have a "family meeting". It was more like an intervention.
They asked me what was wrong, and why I was acting this way. I didn't have an answer for them.
I was angry, yeah, and it must have shown on my face, but I had no intention of hurting anyone. But of course that's what I did.
I was always kind of close with my uncle. He was a pretty cool relative, and he knew I thought so. So he walked over and put a hand on my shoulder and asked me what was wrong in this soft, caring tone of voice.
My right hand punched him in the chest, and I fractured one of his ribs.
I told them that my hand was not obeying, that it had a mind of its own, that the muscles were acting up, anything to get them to listen to me.
They tried to accept it, so I was brought to a hospital. They scanned and did tests on my brain to see if anything would show why or that this was actually happening.
They found nothing. When my family and I went home, they tried to hide their annoyance with me. But my mother exploded at me.
"What the hell is wrong with you!? What did I do to deserve to get a messed up prick like you!? You only want attention!" She screamed at me. The others remained silent, but I knew they agreed with her.
==Jan 20, 2013==
Today I went to a therapist *shudder*. Actually, I was forced to go to a therapist. He gave me this drug. I don't even know what it's called.
I hate it.
In fear of my right hand typing, I'm going to use audio recordings and have the computer translate them into text. I'm doing fine with my left hand, but my right hand was more violent today.
Tomorrow, I'm going to a new school (Sorry the pills make it harder to focus).
What was I talking about..?
My right hand being violent!
Yeah, it kept hitting me and messing with my fingers.
Over and out.
PEACE!
==Night - Jan 20, 2013==
It's getting bad. 
I stopped taking the drugs the therapist gave me after my last entry finally registered. I can't take this anymore, my hand is going berserk.
With the drugs I was beginning to believe that it really was me being mental, or the muscles having a breakdown, but it's not. It just isn't.
My hand keeps flailing and hitting me in the face or grabbing my other arm and twisting. My mom even walked into my room and freaked out when she saw me. Apparently I had a bloody nose from all the trauma, and my left arm was turning purple. But of course instead of helping me she just yelled at me to 'cut the theatrics' and slammed the door. 
==3:00 a.m. -Jan 20, 2013==
I remember this random discussion from one of my health classes.
If you cut the muscles in you hand, or arm actually, you can't use those muscles ever again. If I separate those muscles, then everything will go back to normal, because my hand won't be able to move itself.
My dad is a fan of the old fashioned, so he has these old barber shop type razors in the bathroom. Those will be perfect! 
==Jan 21, 2013==
This is not Kennith.
This is Officer Johnson. I decided to write this down here because I saw this page open on Kennith's computer, and reading the past posts, I thought it would be a good idea to finish what he started. To let people know what happened.
This morning, Kennith was found dead in the shower. It was believed to be a suicide at first but now it's... strange. He wasn't even wet. I mean, it looked like he just turned on the shower to make it seem like he was showering to anyone outside the bathroom. We also discovered he had a broken left arm and a fractured skull. We also found his phone open to video, to record himself.
The following was in the recording:
Kennith was talking to himself while looking at himself in the mirror above his sink. Then his head turned and he looked at his right arm. He started talking to it. Saying things like "Thanks for being so calm." But his attitude changed quickly towards his right arm for reasons that can't be seen in the video. He then grabbed his right arm with his left and screamed, "Why do you hate me?!"
Then his right arm grabbed his left, and twisted around it like a snake pulling back. As impossible as that sounded, I swear to God, that's what happened. Kennith tried to fight back, but his right arm slammed his left elbow against the granite surface of the sink, breaking his left elbow audibly.
He screamed begged for mercy, but his right hand dropped his left arm and smashed his face, causing his nose start gushing blood.
He then started to hyperventilate from shock. He started to try and open the door to the bathroom to get help, but his right fist balled into a fist and struck him in the throat.
He fell back to where the toilet was, his breaths becoming loud gasps. His right hand grabbed his throat and squeezed, the skin of the hand turning white. Kennith managed to get out a short, labored laugh and said, "You can't strangle me. We'd both pass out." The hand 
dropped away from his throat and fell to his side, laying there motionless. Kennith's nose was still bleeding, and he had started to cry.
He got up and walked back over to the mirror to look at himself. His head turned and he stared directly at the camera. His last words were spoken here. 
"Help."
Then his right hand grabbed his left hand.
The right hand slammed the left into the mirror and repeated the motion.
*Crack Crack Crack*
The glass of the mirror shattered, but his hand was still being thrust into was left of it.
Kennith screamed loud enough for the neighbors to hear. After what seemed like thirty more seconds of this, his right hand felt satisfied with the demolishing of the left one.
His right hand dropped the left one, and reached up and around to the back of Kennith's head, pulling on his hair and causing him to fall back. Once Kennith hit the ground, the right hand grabbed Kennith's face and began smashing his head against the tile flooring.
At this point Kennith gave up. When his eyes finally fluttered closed, his hand stopped moving all together, and then the phone died.
Writing was found on the floor. Testing showed that it had been written in Kennith's blood. It said:
"I won." 
Category:Diary/Journal
Category:Mental Illness