The Dead House

Carly: I don’t think you’re allowed to swear on a hospital phone, you know.



John: Well, she said something that pissed me off.



Carly: She’s helping me.



John: Listen, if she were a guy, I’d have broken a rib or two by now.

[Pause]



Carly: What’d she say?



John: She said something that tipped me off to the reason I haven’t been able to find you in so long. You were there. In a bloody mental hospital.



Carly: I… I thought you’d forgotten about me.



John: I would never do that! I told you, remember? Even though—even if— [Pause]

I have to go. I don’t want you to hear me like this. I might break something. Pro’ly the phone. Or the wall.



Carly: Wait—John…

[Breathing]

John?



John: I’m here.



Carly: So… you didn’t forget me?



John: You’re a riot, Kat. [Pause] You pest.



Carly: [Laugh, sniff] So… you’ll come?



John: Wild trolls couldn’t keep me away.



Carly: [Exhales]



John: Kaitie?



Carly: Hm?



John: Don’t let them break you.



Carly: I… I’m trying.



Operator: Time’s up.



John: Talk to you soon, pest.



Carly: John—

[End of call]





The Johnson Claydon Diaries

Twenty-third Entry

I had a conversation with a viper tonight. He slithered up my legs, around my torso, lingered on my shoulder, forked tongue flicking near my eye as he smelled me.

“Whatttttttttttt are you doing?”

“Are you real?”

“Are yyyyyyou?”

“I am,” I retorted. But then I had this strange sensation that he, with his whispers and scaly armor, was the real one, and I was just a thing wearing a Carly suit.

He seemed to laugh, and as he laughed, he curled himself about my neck three times. “A real girl, tttttttttttalking to a ssssssssnake. Are you ssssssssure you’re real?”

“What do you want?”

I began to shiver, but not from fear, and it repulsed me.

“I’m ttttthhhhhinking of doorrrrrsssssss and windowsssssss,” he told me; his orange eyes, so serpentine and unfathomable, stared right into mine.

“Doors and windows?”

“What, do you ttttttttthhhhink issssssssss behind a pane of glasssssssssssss?”

I felt utter terror at his words.

“Whatttttttt if there’ssssss nottttthhhhhing on ttttthhhhe otttthhhher ssssside?”

“There’s always something,” I told him. “There has to be…”

The brille on his eyes began to cloud over. “Notttthhhhhing issssss… ssssssometimesssssss real.”

“Please,” I said, feeling his body around my neck, slowly tightening. And I shivered again, and felt a desperate heat flush my cheeks. “Please stop.”

He turned those milky eyes on me. “Whyyyyy, when you like ittttt sssssssso?”

I gasped and raised my chin, trying to gain some space. “What are you? Are you really a snake?”

He began to shed. “Are yo o o o o u… real l l l l y a girl?”

Am I, Dee?





60



On 22 December 2004, Carly “Kaitlyn” Johnson was allowed to receive a visitor. The visit was recorded on the CCTV camera in the visitor room and has been transcribed below.



CCTV Camera Footage

Wednesday, 22 December 2004, 2:15 PM

Claydon Youth Psychiatric Facility



A low buzz sounds as the nurse lets Naida Chounan-Dupré into the visiting room. Naida steps inside, her eyes dull but alert. She looks at the guard for a moment, perhaps to ensure that he leaves, and then turns to Kaitlyn, who sits on a plastic chair in the center of the room, motionless. Her wrists are cuffed with soft restraints; Naida eyes them and bites her lips.

“I’m surprised you came,” Kaitlyn says; she doesn’t stand. Though her words are hostile, their delivery is weak—fragile as rice paper.

Naida sits down in the chair opposite Kaitlyn; she seems affected by Kaitlyn’s appearance, which is somehow muted since the Naida Camera Footage, as though washed of vital color.

“Of course I came.” Her eyes dart left and right. “You’re my best friend.”

Kaitlyn doesn’t reply for a moment, but her eyes seem to take Naida in with precision. “They… they didn’t tell you? About what’s happened?”

“Yes… I know exactly what’s happened. I came to see how you are.”

Kaitlyn nods. “Thank you. I… I’ve been better.”

“Everyone’s been so worried.” Naida glances around again, finally spotting the camera. “They can’t wait to have you back, hopscotching around.”

“I miss them too. Why aren’t you home for the holidays?”

“I’m staying at Elmbridge over Christmas.”

Kaitlyn frowns. “Why?”

Naida smiles but doesn’t answer. Eventually, she says, “Ari’s been asking after you. I said you’d be back as soon as you were well. He’s staying for Christmas too. And Scott and Brett.”