The Dead House

Date: 3 January 2005

Subject: Re: Our Secret



You’ll never be alone again. You have me.

It was real. It happened.

It was the best moment of my life.

Do you regret it?





From: RealxChick To: AriHait558

Date: 3 January 2005

Subject: Re: Re: Our Secret



A little.





From: AriHait558

To: RealxChick

Date: 3 January 2005

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Our Secret



Ah.





From: RealxChick

To: AriHait558

Date: 3 January 2005

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Our Secret



Only because of Carly! I don’t regret you. You saved me. You came into the dark with me, and you showed me that there was life. You pulled me into the light.

I think I love you.





From: AriHait558

To: RealxChick

Date: 3 January 2005

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Our Secret



Get some sleep. We had a late night, and the breakfast bell will ring any moment. Try to rest, beautiful caged Rapunzel. Things will seem less uncertain after you rest.


PS—I love every little molecule in your body. I love every hair on your head.





From: RealxChick

To: AriHait558

Date: 3 January 2005

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Our Secret



I don’t deserve this happiness.





Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson


Tuesday, 4 January 2005, 6:25 am

Basement

It started with footsteps. Footsteps coming slowly towards my room. The sound is so heavy, like the footsteps of a Moloch, and they echo down the hall.

Step. (BOOM.) Step. (BOOM.) Step. (BOOM.) I can’t move.

My heart throws itself against my ribs as though telling my lungs: Inflate! Inflate now! We need air! Breathe! BREATHE!

But I can’t breathe, because the footsteps have stopped outside my door and they squeeeeeaaakkk as the monster turns towards me—or is it a devil, Dee? I can’t tell. All I know is that there is nothing but a strip of wood between us, and all I can think is Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God

And

then

The walls were bleeding. Not just bleeding, Dee. They were raining blood. I could smell that copper scent like old pennies, and I could feel the warm, sticky, squishiness of it in between my toes.

As the blood rose in the Dead Rooms, I grew more and more panicked, sure I would drown in whatever the blood concealed. Dee, I did; I drowned in my sleep tonight, and when I woke, I found blood and stitches and skin caught in my teeth, and my arms had been ripped open anew.





73


29 days until the incident


Naida Camera Footage

Tuesday, 4 January 2005, 7:45 AM

Basement



Naida enters the basement with a tote bag slung over her shoulder as the motion camera is clicked on. Kaitlyn sits huddled in the shadows and doesn’t stir.

“Up, up, up,” Naida sings, dropping a bag by the foot of the mattress. “I’ve got something for you, but you’ve got to be awake to get it.”

The shadow that is Kaitlyn still doesn’t move, and even with the night vision on the camera, it is difficult to see what Kaitlyn is doing under the blanket draped across her.

“Don’t make me shine a flashlight in your face,” Naida warns, bending over to pull one out of the bag. “I was courteous enough not to flip on the overhead light, but I’ve got limits. Three seconds. Two. One! You leave me no choice, Johnson.”

She clicks on the flashlight and shines it on Kaitlyn. We get a brief image of Kaitlyn hunched over her arms, legs curled tightly to her and blood pooled on the mattress before Naida drops the flashlight and the room is flooded with black once more. The camera takes a moment to adjust to the darkness again.

“Kaitie,” Naida breathes, “what happened?”

“The Dead House tried to drown me in blood.” Kaitlyn’s voice shakes and jumps as though she is very cold. “Or the thing in the Dead House—I’m not sure.”

Naida runs over to the light and flips the switch. The bulb illuminates very little of the room, but it is enough to see that Kaitlyn has been bleeding profusely. She is a chalky gray color, and her eyes are drooping.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Naida demands, tearing off her shirt and clambering onto the mattress. “That’s what I gave you the laptop for!” She presses the material to Kaitlyn’s arms, shaking her head.

“M-mustn’t b-be s-seen.” Kaitlyn shudders.

“I have to call an ambulance—”

“No!” Kaitlyn wrenches backwards, tearing her arms away from Naida.

“Kaitlyn, you’ll bleed to death!”

“Then h-help me. S-sew it up ag-gain.”

“I can’t do that. You’ll get some kind of infection—Kaitlyn, I have to go now!”

Kaitlyn attempts to grip Naida’s arms as she tries to get up, but her hands are weak.

“Th-they’ll lock m-me away forever—and Carly—N-Naida, please. Please h-help me. Help me—” Her head shakes, dipping lower and lower, but her eyes never leave Naida’s face. They are hollow, piercing like the gaze of disease. “P-promise me. P-please, promise me!”