My life really sucks. It’s been that way for the longest time. Over my 34 years of living, each and every last year has been nothing but complete agony. Now, when I say this, I’m not trying to sound like one of those people who self-diagnose themselves with depression and such. Honestly, I do suffer from severe depression. Most of my life, I’ve been alone.

Quite frankly, I believe that God hates me. To be blunt, I believe that God either hates me with all his heart or he simply doesn’t exist. I mean, if there was a god, why would he let me suffer so badly? I know that I may sound selfish, but I honestly believe it. It hurts.

Through my childhood, I had to deal with a lot. My father was never in my life. My mother was in and out of rehab due to her constant drug parties. Therefore, I had to live with my grandmother mostly. Unfortunately, she was on the brink of being put in a hospital as she suffered from occasions of extreme confusion. Sometimes, she wouldn’t even know where she was or who she was. I would say it was a period of her taking care of me, but it was more like me taking care of her. A childhood like this resulted in me being incredibly antisocial and not having any friends. That never bothered me too much as a kid.

From my childhood to now, I have been on and off antidepressant pills. Sometimes, I just have to skip a few days just to make sure I wouldn’t get addicted to the stuff. The last thing I wanted was to give my mother the satisfaction of knowing I ended up just like her. As I mentioned, I always believed that God hated me. I realized that the day I lost my wife and my two children. There has not been a day that has gone by where I don’t have vivid memories of that horrible day. The day I lost them will forever live on in my mind.

Back when I lived in the city, I had a fairly decent office job. My wife had informed me that she was going to take my son and daughter out for some back to school shopping. That whole day, I was never expecting to get the phone call I received. While out and about, an idiot truck driver was not paying attention to the road and ran right through a red light. He slammed directly into my family. It was not just the truck driver I hated. I also hated the police.

As my family was inside the crushed vehicle clinging to life, it took the police and paramedics far too long to get there. By the time they’d made it, it was too late. It turns out that my daughter, Megan, was killed instantly. The other two died while waiting for the authorities. My family dying changed me. I guess the event of losing my entire family at once was too much for me to handle. Ever since, I don’t smile. I don’t laugh. I don’t find genuine joy in things anymore. Now, my world just feels dull, lifeless, and broken.

From that day, I vowed I would be better than those police, who couldn’t do their jobs on time. I couldn’t stand living in that city afterwards. I moved to a small, rural town about 200 miles from where I once lived. A realtor who also lives in this town had an ad online for a fairly decent looking house. I moved here about five years ago, and life has been fairly odd.

I took the job as a police detective in this town, and the amount of things that happen in this town are unreal. For a fairly small town, a lot goes down here. There are the occasional calls of domestic abuse or some drunk idiot that’s passed out in the streets. This was all well and fine, but after the first year, things got strange. Things got stranger than they already were. The people in this town were already strange enough. I don’t know what’s going on, but something’s not right.

It all started with a call we received late one night about 11 o'clock. A woman called and sound frantic and shaken. She reported that she was hearing footsteps from outside her house. She also reported the slight sounds of squealing by her bedroom window. Detective Norse looked at me with a face that showed confusion and fear. We thought this was strange, but we went nonetheless.

When we made it, we approached the front door. Actually, we approached what used to be the front door. Spread across the yard, there were pieces of wood. That wood used to be the front door.

When we stepped inside, what we saw immediately made us vomit. It was the woman who called. At least, I think it was. It was clearly a freshly made corpse. The woman was almost unrecognizable. Her body was covered in claw marks that sank deep into flesh. Her body was twisted and bent in a way that no human should be able to do.

About five minutes later, the paramedics arrived. At closer examination, they discovered something even stranger. Some of the woman’s body parts had been removed. The woman was missing her eyelids, three toenails from the left foot, calf muscles of both legs, and 13 of her teeth. One of the paramedics couldn’t even stand to look at the once living body.

“What kind of sick bastard would do this?” said one of the paramedics.

I finally looked over at Norse. His face had gone from disgust to utter terror. He looked as though he’d just reached some epiphany. He dropped down to his knees and vomited again. I ran over to him to make sure he was alright. What happened next has given me nightmares for the past three weeks straight. Norse looked right up at me, said two words, pulled out his pistol, and shot himself in the head. The paramedics, other officers, and I all completely lost our composure.

Norse, my fellow officer and friend, has just killed himself right in front of me. We’re now investigating the woman’s death and the other occurrences. I intend on learning more about the two words Norse said to me. Norse’s final words will forever live in my mind. I don’t know what to make of this whole situation, but I intend to find out. Lately, there have been more calls of people going missing and people being found completely brutalized. We need to find out what’s going on, and we need to find out fast. I need to find out what Norse was talking about. Norse’s final words:

THE SQUEALER

I’m currently taking a short break from the station. I need to clear my head and do some investigating. Whatever this “Squealer” thing is, it has to be something huge. I’m going to find out what’s going on. I’m going to find out. I’ll report back when I have more information.