The Dead House

Happy birthday, Kaitie. We are twelve today! One day I’m going to give you a big hug, and we’ll walk in the sunlight together. I love you. Xoxo



Ari and Scott read the letter too.


When Brett and John enter a room, I feel them there.


I am fifteen. I am looking at the Viking dancing with a girl in a raven mask, and I am angry that she gets to touch him and kiss him, and I am angry it isn’t me instead. I thought maybe I was special. The girl in his nighttime world, like he is the boy in mine, but he has plenty of girls. Any developing idea of romance I have is murdered then and there. After that, the walls come down. I remember the words he’d spoken to me only moments before—I won’t hurt you. And you won’t hurt me. We’ll do it by being totally honest with each other. We’ll never lie or hide or deceive. Not like them. It’ll be our pact. I wonder if this is his honesty.

And I see John watching, the John now in the Dead Room of this memory, and I feel him blanch as he realizes what he’s looking at. I see Brett scowl and wander through the crowd, nothing but a wisp.


I feel them plodding all over my memories. They linger, like a scent. And it’s as if they’ve always been with me.


And the house

Is

Still

Empty.


Basement footage coinciding with events shortly after the ritual with Haji has never been found.




Torn-Out Page from the Diary of Carly Luanne Johnson

Undated




I know Kaitie has spoken to him a few times at night, because she told me. She didn’t give an opinion, just mentioned it like she’d mention a passing rain cloud. Completely without opinion or judgment. And if I were to tell her how I’m feeling, she might overreact and do something.

I saw him at lunch today, just staring at me. I was so uncomfortable that, even though I resolved to eat at least half of the sandwich, I couldn’t touch it. When Kaitie asks me why, what can I say? Brett was watching me, and it made my skin crawl? Yeah, right.

I can’t tell Naida either, because Scott is Brett’s friend, and it would be weird to admit that Brett makes me feel—

I’ve seen him following me between classes too. Yesterday after English, he followed me for ages. I had to duck into the girls’ bathroom to avoid him, and I was late for Religious Education, but I didn’t mind so much because he was gone when I came out. I wish I was brave enough to tell him to go away. Why does he watch me like this?





Naida Camera Footage

Friday, 28 January 2005, 5:51 AM

Basement



The camera has already been on for some minutes before Haji enters. Kaitlyn, tossing and turning in her sleep and moaning deep in her throat, sits up violently as he descends the stairs.

“Who’s there?” Kaitlyn whispers.

“Haji. Are you alone?”

Kaitlyn exhales and the sheets ruffle. “What are you doing here? You scared me.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, why?”

He comes closer, stands by the edge of the bed. “I wanted to talk to you without the others. There is something you should know. Something I felt.”

“What? What is it?”

“The Shyan.”

“What about it?”

“I felt him there with us, in your mind.”

“I told you that something was in here, with me—”

“No—I mean… I felt him when we were thrust out of there. I felt him in the room with us. Kaitlyn… the Shyan was in the room.”

Kaitlyn doesn’t move.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you? The Shyan is one of us. One of your friends.”

“I don’t—”

“You must be wary. Trust no one. He has been close to you all this time, watching. Trust none of them, Kaitlyn. You cannot be sure who is working against you from within your ranks.”

He sighs and then moves towards the stairway.

“Keep the door to the larger section of the basement locked, if you haven’t been doing so already. Be vigilant. We will talk again, in daylight. Say nothing in front of the others. Good night.”

Kaitlyn’s form seems frozen, but she is hidden in the deepest gloomy recess of the room and we can’t see what emotions might be playing across her face. She has not moved by the time the motion-activated camera clicks off.





95


5 days until the incident




Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson


Friday, 28 January 2005, 6:00 am

Roof

One of my friends. One of them is lying to me. Oh, my God. What do I do? Which one could do this to me? I can’t believe this. I can’t process.

One of my friends.