The dental floss killer

Dear Diary,
you will not believe what happened to me today! I mean, not to me personally, but to my classmate. You remember Sarah? The butthead? Yeah her. Well, she went missing. Not to be a bad person, but serves her right for insulting me and my friends. However, many are worried about her. That's stupid.

Dear Diary,
it's been a week since we talked. Another person went missing. This has become such a big thing, they even announced it on the news. Panic rises. My mother seems very worried. She spilled her coffee as she was looking into the void. It took me several tries until she snapped back. I don't like it.

Dear Diary,
I think I saw something. Something I wasn't supposed to see. Next to our neighbourhood, there is an abandoned building. Regularly you'd see homeless people or drugged people there, so I try to not get as near to that building. Nevertheless, sometimes I go there, because the building on its own is pretty and it would be a shame to not make some notes (or as I like to call them etudes) about its architecture. I usually sustain the distance between me and the building, but I saw something peculiar lying there, closer to this building. It looked thin and filthy. As I approached it I realised that it was some very long dental floss partially covered in blood. I don't care who or what left it there. I ran away as any normal person would do.
My mom's state hasn't changed.

Dear Diary,
another day, another person gone. I am getting worried.

Dear Diary,
I dared another look on the building and I am confused. You see, I basically studied this building's structure. I made little drawings and most importantly I made photographs of the place. I am absolutely sure, the building had straight walls! Thus, the bump on the north side of the wall doesn't make any sense. It shouldn't be there. I don't like this.

Dear Diary,
Mary didn't return home. I can't believe she would leave. She knows I get so worried if I don't see her for a while, because I love her. And she told me she loves me too. What if something happened to her? I won't be able to live without her. I promised, that I wouldn't live without her.

Dear Diary,
Mary is still gone. I don't feel well.

Dear Diary,
you know what? Fuck it! I'm going into that building. Who cares? For all I know, Mary could be there.

Dear Diary,
I am in great danger. Yesterday I went into the building when I herd huffing and steps. I hid in the closet and tried to remain silent as a figure, following another figure, entered the room. I didn't recognise any of those. All I could see was the second figure quickly turning around and jumping behind the first figure. The first figure began choking and suddenly I heard a splash. Blood. In agony they screamed and struggled. The second figure seemed to have very strong hands, so I didn't even attempt to help the first figure. I didn't want to end up like that. That moment I understood how the instinctive, almost animalistic fear of death felt like. I was terrified that the second figure would be able to hear my heartbeat, but luckily they did not. After the first figure stopped moving, it dropped into the puddle of blood underneath. Then, the creature took something that probably was floss and cut with it through the meat of the dead figure. Finishing dismembering it into smaller sections, the figure approached the wall. They put body parts, one after another, into the wall and covered it with bricks and some kind of paste. They had their back faced towards me, and I saw it as an opportunity to leave. I ran. They probably saw me. I am afraid to leave my home.

Dear Diary, I feel itchy.

Dear Diary,
something scratched my walls from inside.

Dear Diary,
my mom isn't my mother. Somebody is inside her, something that is not her. Was it the figure who build somebodies brain and soul into my mother?

Dear Diary,
something is inside me. Everything is so itchy. What if the figure didn't only rebuild my mother, but attacked me too. It had a motive to attack me!

Dear Diary,
Something is inside my walls! I am going to break them down.

Dear Diary,
nothing was there. Weird.

Dear Diary,
I'm going into that building again. I need to verify that what I saw wasn't just my imagination. If I don't return, goodbye, but if I do, I would need to talk to the school counsellor (I'll tell you how it goes). I hope for the latter. It makes sense: People start to disappear, my mother starts behaving weird, I in turn try to find any kind of explanation, even if it doesn't make any logical sense. Normal life, here I come.