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    Joined dxpnet on May 30, 2019.
    Day 46:

    We ran out of water three days past. Food, more than five days past. The details are foggy and my mind seems to drift in a state of torpor. But the beating. The constant pounding. We boarded up the windows with solid beams of wood, but nothing can withstand such never-ending abuse. The beating brings me back to reality. It is positively maddening and it is in this state I exist; periods of torpor broken by sheer rage only to lapse back into despondency. And the wailing and moaning. The sounds are almost lewd. The sounds of those damned creatures outside. They want in. And they want us.

    Johannes has begun talking to himself. He sits, curled in the corner and raves about things only he knows. He raves, even while winding his watch. It's the only habit of his that I recognize from before. Before it seems that hell disgorged it's damned to hunt the rest of us. The rest of the crew are in much the same state, but a growing sense of paranoia and distrust grows among us. I fear that we will not survive much longer.