The Dead House, стр. 29

I wish she would stop smiling.

Later

Whereareyou whereareyou whereareyou whereareyou whereareyou whereareyou

whereareyou whereareyou whereareyou whereareyou whereareyou whereareyou

[The following diary entry is barely legible, the ink smudged, pages curling, the letters small and untidy, as though written in great distress.]

Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson

Sunday, 14 November 2004, 9:00 am

Attic

Here, in the dark, I can write.

What’s happening, Dee? Why is this happening? I woke up this morning.

I woke up.

This morning.

The sun was worse than fire, exposing every single part of me, and everything else. The room was complete like it had never been before. Bigger, more complicated. Harder. It was not a room I have ever seen.

Dee—Carly is…

Where is Carly? I don’t know how or where or why. I woke up this morning and it was light and bright, and she wasn’t here. I was. She hadn’t written in the Message Book, because I was where she should have been—

I can’t do this.

I don’t know where she is. First, she didn’t look at the Message Book yesternight, and now she’s gone. Have we switched? Was this meant to happen?

I threw up in the bin, saw my reflection—it’s all wrong! I looked like every photo of Carly I’ve ever seen. And all I could hear was Lansing’s voice in my mind—

Integration. Integration. Integration.

I WAS MEANT TO DISAPPEAR, NOT CARLY!

I screamed and I screamed and I ran out of there as fast as I could there were so many people around the girls I only briefly see at dinner on the rare occasions I actually go to the hall and who I watch while they sleep now they were talking moving running laughing all of them in one place there were too many colors too many things too many people all around at once and I didn’t understand and I wanted to hide but the sun made everything so white and my eyes my eyes—

They tried to talk to me: “Carly, what’s wrong?” “Carly?”

“Carly, what’s happened?” “Where is Carly going?”

Carly? Carly? Carly?

I screamed at them all.

Everything so hard, everything so fast. Winding up, not down.

Nothing muted, soft and safe. Everything there, so real and sharp!

I couldn’t handle it. I ran and ran and I didn’t know where I was going, only that the sky was blue and the grass was green and the colors were all wrong and too strong and my eyes—

Shit… Shit.

The attic is always dark. Always safe.

What do I do? Where is she? How do I… what do I do?

Dee, please. If it’s you, stop laughing.

Dee, help me. Help me, Dee. What do I do?

I’m going to wait for sunset. If I discard into another day, I’ll know something at least. I’ll know Carly is safe. That she is now the night child and I’m now the day. Maybe we were always meant to flip around at some point… We really don’t know anything at all.

Except something is wrong. I can feel it inside me like I’ve lost a lung. I listen for my Voice, but there is nothing except silence. There has never been such silence, so I know he must be close.

I smell ashes and blood, and I don’t understand why I am here and Carly is not.

I need to get to the dorm; Carly will panic to wake here. I’ll be sure to leave her a note. If I don’t discard… if I’m alone. Dee, what happens then?

What happens when a kite loses its string?

5:00 pm, Dorm

The sun set.

From: RealxChick

To: AriHait558

Date: 14 November 2004

Subject: Losing My Shit

Ari, help me, I don’t know what to do—Carly’s gone. Shitshitshit, Ari, what do I do?

From: AriHait558

To: RealxChick

Date: 14 November 2004

Subject: Re: Losing My Shit

Kait? Are you okay? What’s happened?

From: AriHait558

To: RealxChick

Date: 14 November 2004

Subject: Re: Re: Losing My Shit

Are you there?

From: AriHait558

To: RealxChick

Date: 14 November 2004

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Losing My Shit

Kaitlyn, you’re scaring me—what’s going on? Where are you?

From: AriHait558

To: RealxChick

Date: 14 November 2004

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Losing My Shit

I’m going to the chapel. Meet me there.

40 79 days until the incident

Naida Camera Footage

Monday, 15 November 2004, 2:22 AM

Naida’s Dorm Clip #1

The screen is dark, but the muffled thump and corresponding “damn” indicate that the camera is recording.

A lamp goes on, and the screen takes a moment to adjust. The camera wobbles and points at the floor, where two socked feet appear in the circle of lamplight on the carpet.

“What kind of hour do you call this?” Naida mutters, walking to her door. She lifts the camera belatedly, and we get a brief view of her disheveled hair in the mirror on the back of the door before she opens it. She storms along the corridor and bangs on the next door over.

“Some of us are trying to sleep!”

A thud and then sobbing.

“Kaitlyn?”

Naida opens the door onto a scene of chaos. The bed is upturned, the bedcovers strewn across the floor. The bookcases are empty, the contents scattered about the room in violent disarray. Kaitlyn is huddled in a corner behind the bed, sobbing. She slams her head into the wall repeatedly, the sound loud and shocking. There are smudges of blood on the pale wallpaper.

“Oh, my God,” Naida breathes, moving forward, and we see her hand reaching outwards. “Kaitie—”

At the sound of Naida’s voice, Kaitlyn’s head shoots up, revealing puffy red eyes. She is holding a bottle of wine in her hands; it is almost empty.

Naida’s camera shakes. “Kait—”

Before she can finish, Kaitlyn jumps to her feet, wine bottle forgotten, and launches herself past Naida and out of the room. Naida follows, and we see a flash of Kaitlyn as she races out the fire exit.

“Kaitlyn, wait!”

“What’s going on?” a groggy voice calls from behind Naida.

Naida angles the camera on the sleepy face of Brenda. “Nothing. The fire escape blew open or something.”

“What’s happened?” Charlotte Leary says, opening her door. Then Maggie, farther along.

“What’s the banging?”

“Fire escape,” Naida says.

“Keep it down,” Brenda mutters, before withdrawing her head and slamming her door. Charlotte and Maggie withdraw too.

Naida turns the camera on herself. “Something’s up.”

She rushes down the fire escape and into the woods.