He's like a machine. He hates to be touched. He hates anything to be non-sanitized. He can't stand human emotion. He fakes a personality, just to seem okay. He hates technology, but is nothing without it. He's a professor to the class, but supposed to be a student. He teaches the same thing everyday, but was meant to be there only to learn. And then he loses control, unable to be a machine any longer, he begins to realize worshiping technology is nothing but a curse. He holds the life of an introvert, the life of a mad man, and he admits to it. All of it. ~~ "You're useless. Nothing but a controlled soul in a shell of a body." "Then just label me a machine, there is nothing more insane than that."

"Never call a girl a bitch," I glared into his eyes as he opened them, piercing into me, the bright blue drink I had just poured over him still dripping from his dark hair. "Or she just might act like one." I gave him one last sarcastic smile before pushing by him and walking away, practically strutting. Well, this year will be fun... • • • • Crystal Summers; a self-proclaimed expert in all things sarcastic and the human embodiment of destructive decisions. Trying to get away from her troubled past, she moves with her mom to California to start a new life, and potentially not screw this one up. There, she quickly meets Scarlett and Savanah, her new-found partners in crime, and her life finally begins to feel normal again for the first time in years. But she just so happens to also collide with the school's sexy, notorious jackass, Ashton Monroe.. and his pack of asswipes. She loathes him, and the feeling is mutual. But as the poets say, the line separating love and hate is a very thin one. And often times, when two people hate each other, it can grow into much more. Hopeless devotion, if you will... • • • • !!!TRIGGER WARNING!!! • slight mention(s) of suicidal concepts • substance abuse, addiction, anxiety, PTSD • sexual assault, domestic abuse • strong language and mature scenes • • • •

February 19th, 2018 He is test subject Three-eleven-thirteen. Ellie for short. He's human. Remarkable. He can breathe freely, no tubes. His heart has adapted to beating on it's own. He opened his eyes yesterday, we looked at one another. He looked at me, truly looked at me. My daughter, Ripley, tried speaking with him, but he didn't understand. I will have her keep working with him. He will speak. February 23rd, 2018 He is standing. His bones are still fragile, but he is gaining muscle rapidly. This is incredible progress in such little time. Everything is going as planned, though his fingernails are black. They weren't black yesterday. March 13th, 2018 Ellie attacked Ripley last night. He will be kept in restraints from now on. March 27th, 2018 My God he is strong. The mysterious blackness that had formed in his fingernails is now flowing in his veins. Whatever this black liquid is, it's possessing him. April 4th, 2018 He bit me last night. I can feel the mystery in my veins. What is this? April 5th, 2018 Test subject three-eleven-thirteen, Ellie, will no longer be a patient of mine. I have locked him up in a cell in my lab. I fear him. He will stay in that cell for God knows how long until he starves to death. I am a coward. April 6th, 2018 I can't tolerate this. I think I'm truly losing it. My memories, my spirit, I feel them being eaten by this black virus. I have to end this tonight. I have to end myself tonight. I have too. Ripley, my sweet daughter, I love you baby. I am sorry for creating that abomination. I am so sorry.