Sickend

I am sorry for the lack of updates since the 6th...I've been so sick since then. I find it almost impossible to leave my bed most of the day, let alone stand to walk and update the blog. It is a miracle that I am able to post this today. Nothing new has occured...Alice remains the same. She refuses to speak to me, even as I lie here in pain. Robbie is worried for me, sometimes he is even frightened of me, it seems. He says I don't look right, even though he wants to help me, I know he is just afraid of me. Whatever this sickness is...the effort it takes to walk sends the room spiraling. More than once I have glanced at a window or mirror only to think I saw a figure there. There's nothing there, nothing ever is. I feel so weak, so heavy...I want to ask if Robbie has seen this figure too.
We all know who he is, and if Alice is allowed to tell Andreas, why can't I tell Robbie? Only I doubt his mind will be able to handle it. I haven't seen any of his puppets lately, maybe he thinks I'm not well enough to see them. I worry for him. I don't want him sucked up into this. Whatever 'this' is. This sickness, this paranoia, these Schizophrenic rumors and whispers. Nothing of it makes any sense to me, does anyone make sense of it?
I just want to sleep now, the light from the computer hurts my eyes.

The Five Orange Pips

.Alice has gone too far this time. Either her mental degeneration or her sadistic psychopathic humor has driven her to this point, I can't say which. I don't know what to think, or what to say to her. It does not matter what I say to her anyway, does it? She'll simply reply with some other, worse, entry after a period of unexplained dormancy. I used to fear for her health, but now I see she must be doing fine. If she can waste her time playing these games, tormenting me..destroying any trust I tried to hold for her, how 'sick' can she be? Robbie doesn't understand what is wrong. He never read Sherlock Holmes, he would not be able to grasp them...and yet I find myself shaking over the references made to a fictional story. I know the reference Alice is trying to make, making me believe that soon my time will be up. I do not know what she wants me to believe with those other things. The masks and the phrase written on the bottom of the fourth page can only be assumed to be another branch of her insanity. The nameless K.K's must be her idea of a crossover, bringing in the works of her beloved Kafka in order to show her superiority over my emotions.I can't allow this, it's only a story. Only a myth. Nothing of this is real. It's all just an image locked in her brain, something that is eating away at her and destroying her. She brings me into it in order to calm herself and prevent the delusion from becoming worse. I know this is true, it has to be true....it wouldn't have been hard for her to figure out a Sherlock Holmes story in which to irritate me with. My blog's name alone is a reference to him, and so certainly this is only a psychotic episode on her part, and nothing more. But then I begin to think of all the things that have been happening to me. The burns, the sickness, the death, and the dreams. So much of it only occurred after her episodes. I fear her disease disorder is spreading.....and it has wrapped itself around me without my knowledge. I hope it claims no more because of my entries, but it is much too late to stop this now. I know Alice is reading this. She has to be stopped. Her game has to end. She's reduced me to tears and Robbie into fear. He doesn't know what to do, and neither do I.