The Dead House

“I… Okay. Okay, Kaitie.”


Kaitlyn nods once and slumps against the wall. Her eyelids flutter closed.

“Gorro, help me,” Naida mutters, then crawls off the mattress and dashes from the room.

It is more than ten minutes before she returns, by which time the motion-activated camera has clicked off. When it comes back on, registering the time difference, Kaitlyn—who had been slumped against the wall—is now standing against the perpendicular side, her forehead pressed to the concrete. It is unclear how she got there without the camera picking up the movement.

Naida sees her standing like a mannequin, hesitates a moment, and then rushes over.

Kaitlyn is lackluster and pliable in her hands.

“Sit down,” Naida says, leading Kaitlyn back to the mattress. She slumps, leaning against the wall.

Naida unscrews the cap from what looks like a bottle of clear alcohol and wets a white cloth with it. She cleans out the wound, and Kaitlyn hisses through her teeth.

“You have to be strong if you want me to do this,” Naida warns. She is the picture of calm focus; only her shaking hands give her away. She ties a bandage around Kaitlyn’s left arm and secures it in place, then removes a needle and thread from what looks like a little sewing bag.

“God help me,” she mutters, and then begins the long process of sewing up Kaitlyn’s arm.

Kaitlyn tries not to scream, but eventually it becomes too difficult. Naida has to wad up another bandage and put it into Kaitlyn’s mouth. When the right arm is done, it is a butchered mess—all black thread and bunched flesh, but it is no longer bleeding. Naida douses it in alcohol again and then bandages it in place.

“One down.”

Kaitlyn passes out before the second arm is finished, and then Naida checks her pulse, feels her forehead, and carefully pulls her more firmly onto the bed. She then covers the unconscious form with the blanket and sits on the edge, bows her head into her hands, and sobs.



10:02 AM

Kaitlyn sits wrapped in the blanket, a cup of warm tea cradled between her palms. She seems barely able to hold it. Naida watches her carefully.

“Won’t they miss you?” Kaitlyn asks.

“I faked a note. It’s only PE, anyway.”

Kaitlyn glances up at her. “Thank you. Not just for the tea.”

Naida gives a weak smile. “Well, I’ve never done that before. Too bad you couldn’t stay for the whole show.”

“It was getting tedious.”

Naida grins at Kaitlyn’s weak attempt at humor. “God damn, Johnson.”

Kaitlyn takes a sip of her tea, and her skin seems to warm a bit, the gray alabaster flushing with a little peach. She glances up, towards the door, where a short, knotted rope wound with numerous materials that the camera cannot differentiate hangs.

“What is that?”

“A bind. Protection for you. It’ll stop the dreams.”

“Will it work?”

“Should. It’s got my own blood in there, so it’d better.”

Kaitlyn flinches. “Was that necessary?”

“Wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

Kaitlyn nods and sips her tea again.

“What’s up, sugar?”

“How much longer?”

Naida sighs and pressed her hands to her face. “I don’t know. I’m getting closer, I think. This is new for me—I’ve never conjured or done root work before. There’s a lot to learn, to go through… And I’m tailing Mike… I’m trying my best.”

“It’s just…” Kaitlyn shudders. “Whatever’s going on inside me, it’s getting worse. I don’t know, closer. It’s getting harder to cope.”

Naida says nothing, and Kaitlyn continues.

“And I was thinking… maybe… maybe medication will help. Maybe all I need is the right kind, the right dose—maybe… maybe I am—”

“Crazy? You can’t really believe that, can you? What about that house you keep dreaming about? And where’s Carly, huh? And why did I find this”—Naida pulls out a stiff knot of… something from her bag—“outside my dorm this morning, huh?”

Kaitlyn leans away from it. “It reeks—what is it?”

“Oh, just the intestines of some poor creature, knotted into a conjure to keep me immobile.”

“What?”

“It’s a warning. From whoever’s doing this.”

Kaitlyn swallows. “It’s easier not to believe.”

“We will get through this.”

Kaitlyn dashes away a tear. “I feel alone, Naida. I don’t know if I feel Carly anymore. It’s like she’s locked away where I can’t get at her. I don’t have anyone else.”

Naida takes her hand. “You have me.”

Kaitlyn bites her lips and nods, blinking hard. “I’m scared.”

“I know. But this isn’t going to get easier before it gets better. I need you strong. So drink up that tea.”

Kaitlyn eyes the cup suddenly. “What did you put in it?”

“Something to make you strong.”

Kaitlyn nods, and then drinks.

[END OF CLIP]



Naida Camera Footage

Tuesday, 4 January 2005, 9:00 PM

Naida’s Dorm