The Dead House

“Did he say something?”


Scott laughs, the sound echoing through the chamber. “Are you insane? Ari never says anything. He’s about as chatty as you. But I saw you two at Naida’s party. You seemed really comfortable. I’ll tell him to get his arse over here.”

“Thanks.”

He turns to leave, then pauses. “Carly—I mean, Kaitlyn…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you believe this stuff? The Mala stuff?”

Kaitlyn stares at him for a moment and then gives one sad laugh. “I… don’t know.”

“Kind of sounds…”

“Crazy?”

“Yeah. Crazy.”

“I guess it fits me, then.”

Scott laughs, then notices Kaitlyn’s face. “I joined her Mala group last year because I thought she was hot. Now I’m up to my neck in it.”

Kaitlyn smiles. “Life is weird.”

“Major understatement.”

“So you’ll get Ari?”

“Yes, ma’am! At your service, ma’am!”

She nods, and he leaves, closing the door behind him. Kaitlyn stands for a moment, looking down at the soup, then walks over to the old mattress and picks up her pen and journal. She writes a sentence, smiles, and shuts the book, before walking slowly over to the light chain and pulling it once. The room is flooded with blackness.

Then she begins to hum.





Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson


Sunday, 2 January 2005, 10:00 pm

Basement

They’ve cleared it all away. All the stuff from our dorm room. Everything we wore, used, owned. Everything she touched. Naida came to tell me. But she salvaged the box under the bed, the most important thing. I’m so glad she brought it to me, but I don’t feel like I thought I would. One box, and it holds a whole life of love—almost every letter Carly and I have ever exchanged. Seeing it here, all together, three big bundles of paper… is that all we were? Dying pages, fading ink?


[Kaitlyn has pasted several letters into her diary over the following pages, allowing us a unique insight into her relationship with Carly.]




Kaitlyn to Carly, 3 October 1997



Carly, there’s something at the window! There’s a big storm. I’m scared! What do I do if it’s a monster?




Carly to Kaitlyn, 4 October 1997



Monsters can’t get inside the house, because I planted magic stones outside. It’s the wind blowing on the window probably! So don’t be scared! The storm is gone now.




Carly to Kaitlyn, Undated



Happy birthday to us!

Happy birthday to us!

Happy birthday, CarlyandKaitieeeeeeee…

Happy birthday to us!!

(Look under the bed.

I hope you like it!

Happy 14th birthday, Kaybear!)

xxx




Kaitlyn to Carly, 28 August 2003, Claydon



In London, we’ll have our own place. It’ll have huge windows to let in the sun for you, moon for me. We’ll have our own rooms, our own wardrobes, our own food. We’ll be able to choose where we go, who we talk to, and I’ll be able to go shopping and see movies and go to a West End show. You’ll be able to go to university and buy books from shops, and everything will be the way we want it. Exactly as we want it. I can’t wait. This will end, Carlybean. It will end.

They wouldn’t want you to be sad.




Carly to Kaitlyn, 29 August 2003, Claydon



I can’t stop crying. I miss them. I totally took them for granted. Having no one believe us is so much harder than they said it might ever be. I understand why they told us to keep it a secret. This is hard, Kaitie. I can’t do this without them.

Talking about London makes me feel like there’s hope. We have a life waiting for us. We just need to get there, I guess. In London, our apartment will be open plan, no barriers. We’ll get a cat and call her Freedom. You’ll have a room just for all your books, and I’ll have a little place to study. We can each go and see the same film on the same day and talk about it. I want that, Kaybear. I want our life to start. But this place… it gets to me sometimes. Dr. Lansing gets to me sometimes.




Kaitlyn to Carly, 29 August 2003, Claydon



Screw Lansing. She doesn’t know us. A cat called Freedom. It’s a promise.




Kaitlyn to Carly, 22 July 2002



I know you’re pissed at me, but I wanted to keep him to myself for a while. I’m sorry, C, but you have school, and you have some friends (yes, you do!), and I just wanted a friend of my own. His name is the Viking, and he is the tallest, biggest boy I have ever seen! I think you’d like him; he’s really funny. And honest. We met in town, and he’s a child of the dark, just like me. Well, not really like me. He has insomnia. I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t mean to make you angry. Do you want to meet him?




Carly to Kaitlyn, 23 July 2002