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.
I was so stunned by what Haji said that I almost forgot about my dream. Carly was in it. She was standing very still, watching me, and she was in flames. Her eyes wanted to tell me a whole story, but she couldn’t—that much I could see. She lifted her hand slowly and first pointed at me, then to something off to her right.
It was the snake—she was pointing at the snake, and he was writhing in flames too, an inhuman scream piercing the whiteness of the dream. Then