Note: Again, this is supposed to be in German but isn't for the reader's sake. Another thing, this is the third journal entry that is written in this book and necessary to the plot. This isn't the actual third entry.

‼️TW: Concentration camps of the Nazis, suicidal ideations‼️

The truth was, that Rhine wasn’t getting better. He wasn’t attempting anymore, but he was just biding his time before he knew that he wouldn’t be saved.

26th of November, 1946

I remember going to a concentration camp with TR in the summer of 1944, and you could just feel a drop in the mood when you passed over the threshold into the camp, even inside the vehicle.

When I got out, I wanted to recoil. The stench of death, sickness, and burning flesh was pungent. The people in the camp shied away from us, some glaring at us with intense hatred. I wanted to tell them that it would be alright, but I knew better. They knew better. Things wouldn’t get better.

I hated myself that day more than I hate myself now. Or, at least I think I did. I could tell that TR enjoyed it. Well… Third enjoyed it. I don't know if Reich enjoyed seeing that.

I don't like it that I saw all that happen. But I still love my brother, even if part of him did bad things.

Maybe I'm the prisoner of my own mind, waiting for the ovens of death to consume me…

And everything is moving too fast. And I'm stuck in a world where my brother committed over a year ago.

I just want to see TR again, but I don't know if I would be able to handle it. I think I'm… falling.

It feels like my mind is falling into oblivion the longer I stay alive. I need to go. I need to leave. I need to join TR in order to be sane.

I can't stay stable like this. I can't stay normal like this. Even though USSR says I am getting better, I know she's lying through her teeth. She doesn't understand.

I'm going insane. I need to exit this world. I can't go on any longer. I'm not getting better, and I won't get better. I know it.

This will be my last entry. Thank you for everything, my journal.

And Rhine closed the journal, only three-quarters of the way through it all.