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The following is a document containing one of the many notes in Gary Miller's journal from July 6th, 1991, to September 10th, 1993. Additional notes will be added if necessary. Please note that some information may not be accurate as Gary Miller's primary language was German, and each document was roughly translated into English.



PAGE 1:
There's nobody here. What is happening? What did I even do to deserve this? What did I do? Am I dead? Where am I? What’s going on?

[ A drawing below contains a small attempted map scribbled over multiple times. Small notes were added pointing to certain locations but were also scribbled. ]


PAGE 2:
I think I've been here for weeks now. I don't know. There are no windows or anything, so I can't understand where I am or what time it is. I think I'm dead and I'm in hell.

I am starving. I am surviving off of meats and cheeses in my backpack. I am lucky to have food, but unfortunately, I ran out of water many days ago. My dehydration gives me headaches, along with the buzzing of the lights.

It is very bright, and I can barely sleep because of it. I have taken my bed for granted. I miss sleeping next to my wife. I miss Noah. I miss Otto.

[ A drawing below contains the rough sketch of a woman. "ELENA" with a small heart is written above the drawing with an arrow pointing to it. ]


PAGE 3:
I've ripped out most of my pages to make small trails of ripped paper, as I think it would help me figure out where I have and haven't been. So far, I think I am going in a direction I haven't been before. I cannot tell.

My headache is getting worse, and there are a few moments where I have thrown up. The concept of time seems like a fairy tale now. I don't know how long it's been, but I have now grown a very uncomfortable beard that I'd like to get rid of.

All in all, I have found nothing out of the ordinary yet.


PAGE 4:
[ The writing is noticeably less intelligable and inconsistent. ]

I feel like I've been everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It all feels the same, no matter which path I take. I think somebody is stealing my paper trail, but I can't catch up to them.

I want to run, but my stomach is starting to eat itself, and I have no more food. I can feel my body withering away, and I feel so helpless. I think this might be it.

If there is anybody who reads this, please tell my wife Elena that I tried as hard as I could to come back home. Tell her I'm looking forward to eating her pancakes again once she meets me in heaven.


[ Pages 5-8 contain rows of indescribable gibberish and drawings that could not be salvaged for documentation. ]

PAGE 9:
[ The writing is even more intelligable and inconsistent, almost unreadable. ]

I swear I saw my stairway I saw Noah's bedroom door I swear I saw it I tried to open it and it disappeared

The walls are infested with crickets but they hide when I look at them I know they're there I can hear them

I hear the sounds of people talking when I try to find them they laugh I think the devil is whispering in my ears

I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna die

[ The phrase is repeated multiple times throughout pages 10-24 before his documents relating to the Red Rooms. ]

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