July 29, 2018.

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There’s been more and more funerals, more and more sick people. The illness might as well be considered a plague and will probably last a few more months, maybe even until January. OJ gave up on trying to cure tissues. He just cant be helped. The next person he’ll go after is most likely knife, Hes healthy enough to be killed off, and nobody will really miss him.
He went over to lightbulbs room, she has to be comforted daily recently. Fan became a shut in with testube, who has been camping out in her lab. They’ve been looking for a way to bring back some that died. He’ll have to stop them at some point, he’ll say its pointless, they’re dead.

That night, he went through the same routine.

“hey knife-“

“What?! Im trying to sleep here!”

“I know you lost your Dora doll and have had trouble without it, so I got you something; its outside.”

He brought knife out.

The was a box out there, and as knife was opening it, he was hit in the head with a bat. OJ repeatedly bashed knifes head in until he stopped breathing.

“OJ... What did you… why would… it was… you?”

OJ turned around, it was paper. He had woken up due to knife being loud and followed them out. OJ dropped the bat and tried to explain

“Paper I swear it’s not what it-” Oj stuttered. 

“I-I didn’t think you would be the one who… who…”

“paper? Please tell me you didn’t see anything. At all. Please-”

“I saw everything. All of it! I heard you ask paintbrush to go outside with you. I saw you kill him in the yard through my window. I couldn’t see it well. I didn’t think it was you… it was obvious it was a murder, The sudden deaths, you didn’t even clean the shovel… I… I…” Paper sobbed.

Paper started running. The hotel was far away in the distance, so OJ attempted to chase him. He didn’t want to, but he had to stop paper. He knew. He could tell everyone.

He grabbed the shovel and hit paper down.

“OJ… I… I deserve this honestly. I should’ve done something about it… but I left it... because… because… it wasn’t me problem… I’m such a crummy person…” Paper sighed.

“No, paper you’re great! I’m doong this for a good reason if you just don’t tell anyone we can go on living fine and-“

“Its fine OJ. It’s fine, you said it was a good reason. I trust you OJ. If it’d for a good cause, why not rid of me too?” paper said.

“N-No! You can’t  leave me yet, just please don’t tell anyone and we-”

“Please OJ. For a good cause, right?” Paper said. OJ got down and hugged him.

OJ picked up his shovel.
“G-Goodbye paper…” He said in-between short breaths.

He stabbed paper with the shovel, causing a large wound.

He filled and buried two coffins that night.

“Knife”
“2003-2018”
“Jerk not a jock”

“Paper”
“2003-2018”
“Hope you all live well!”

He didn’t get any sleep.

OJ was contemplating what he just did

He did what he had to,

But not what he wanted.

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