ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. 

ᵀʰⁱˢ ᴱⁿᵗʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵉᵖⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘⁱᶜⁱᵈᵉ.

08/30/1980

Dear Diary,

Tuesday evening Trevor came back from the underground floor with his arm wrapped in bandages. Well... not exactly. The arm wasn't there at all. The bandages, stained with blood, only covered him from the elbow up. The worst part is that he smiled the moment he saw me. I was the one who hugged him first.
Now I understand why he'd gotten so angry when I told him about the pool. I think they hurt me.
I hadn't noticed it last Sunday, but my yellow work shirt had a blue stamp on it that read: "Survived Test No. 1." Trevor's shirt is covered in stamps...
He told me it wasn't the first time he'd come back from those tests missing a limb. He always made sure he returned to Sector B only after it had grown back. He didn't want to scare us... me...
That day they forced him to come back upstairs with the stump as punishment for us standing up to them the week before.
I'm afraid I don't remember anything about the pool because I passed out from the pain... But he refused to tell me how he lost his arm...
Anyway, it had grown back by the next day. The banana men think it's caused by the radiation inside our bodies.
I wonder if there's any way they can actually kill us...
The banana men definitely can die. They're not contaminated, otherwise they wouldn't need to wear those banana peels.

The wife of the man who exploded during dinner threw herself out the window when she saw Trevor without an arm. Another girl from our floor followed her.
They chose the same fate my curling iron had, over whatever's waiting for us.
Maybe I don't blame them.
But it would annoy me not to even try fighting a bunch of people dressed up like bananas.
Yes, I know they aren't actually dressed as bananas, but let me make fun of them at least.
Especially because I'm fine, unlike the two people who jumped, who had already started leaking colorful liquid from their noses.
YES, okay, maybe I threw up something rainbow-colored when Trevor came back to our floor, but I think throwing up is perfectly reasonable in a situation like that.
Besides, throwing up colors isn't that bad. I mean... at least it looks pretty inside the toilet.
Another lilac streak has appeared underneath my hair. I'm hiding them for as long as I can.
So don't tell anyone, Diary.
Jenny seemed like the only one who was still healthy. She could never hide vomit or colorful goo dripping out of her nose from me. I know her too well, I can tell immediately when she's lying.
But she was really stressed. She'd started tapping her foot whenever we were sitting down, and even in bed she couldn't stay still.
She asked if she could have the food portions from the people who took the express route out the window.
When they told her no, she completely lost it, and they took her away this Thursday...
She still hasn't come back.
Trevor says she's too stubborn to let the banana men get the better of her.
Still, I've spent days staring out the window hoping to see them escorting her back.
She can't leave me, I'd never leave her.
It's girl code.
Besides, she promised she'd paint my toenails a new color.
I've completely lost my appetite these past few days, and the food they give us is practically begging not to be eaten. Trevor insisted I try the fish, but the smell alone almost made me throw up.
My favorite banana man, who I hate now, I've noticed actually smells really nice.
Strangely... even better than Trevor does.
This morning I stood next to him in silence for a while, but eventually he told me to go away and asked what I was doing.
I had no idea what to tell him.

Anyway, the slime from Jenny's container is gone, the box is empty...
I swear, if that thing really is alive, and I was right all along, I'm going to give Jenny the lecture of her life.

I've been feeling a little strange. I'm not someone who worries this much.
Maybe it's because I've been spending so much time with Trevor. His old-man anxiety is rubbing off on me.

So... Everything's fine.

XOXOXO

Taffy

A note from the author
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts or emotional distress, please reach out to someone you trust, a mental health professional, or a crisis support service in your area. You are not alone, and support is available.