Dear Diary,
Day 1:
"Keep a Diary”
Check. I guess.
I don’t think it’s stupid anymore.
Kara said I should keep you.
She said that it could be important.
I said there were more important things then keeping a Diary.
I wasn’t wrong.
Kara is more important than you.
She brought you anyway.
Look which one of you is here now.
I miss her already.
I was going to use you to keep a record of the established safe houses-
or inventory or something.
Something useful at least.
This right here: This is not useful. This is wasting time by writing in a book.
I should be doing something useful.
Bennett is out trying to catch rabbits.
You know why? Because thats the kind of thing that people in movies do.
Hunt.
Bennett doesn’t know how to hunt!
I don’t know how to take a life!
I did’t mean too!
It’s glassy eyes-
Foul breath-
It just kept walking-
It did’t stop-
Kara ran at it…
She full on ran at it with an axe and it did’t even hesitate!
I did’t know what I was doing.
I still don’t.
Bennett sure as hell doesn’t.
I read somewhere that in situations of extreme disaster, your instincts kick in and you don’t notice things.
Who ever said that is wrong.
I notice my surroundings more.
I mean- Listing for them of corse…
…But I really do notice my surroundings more now.
I never noticed how bad my handwriting looked before.
I never noticed how cold the ground was before.
I never noticed how hungry I get before.
I never noticed how much an open wound could bleed before.
I never noticed how quite it was without Kara before.
I never noticed how cruel the silence was before.
I never noticed how weak I was before.
I never noti
Little Miss Perfect.
Little miss perfect.
Someone get her a ribbon.
She well damn deserves it- with all that she’s given.
She runs a mile, when she’s too weak to walk.
She can’t scream for help; she too gone to talk.
“I’ll eat when I'm perfect” she chose to decide,
as she uses a fork to push her food to the side.
“I’m fine” she sighed,
she clarified,
all of the accusations she denied,
Her ribs stick out,
“The pain with subside,"
“I’m not perfect yet”
She’s hardly alive.
she said it’s okay,
turns out she lied.
Little miss perfect, that’s who she’ll be;
with her bruises running from her thigh to her knee.
The numbers define her-
She has nothing left.
It’s the perfect’s effect-
To leave her bereft.
She’s trapped now.
There’s no going back,
She’ll keep on running ’till her vision goes black.
"I’ll be perfect.”
“It’ll be worth it.”
She's going to get there...
...but what will she forfeit?
She’s trapped now:
In her perfect prison.
For the love of god-
Someone get her a ribbon.
Stay.
The sound of the journalists high heels clicked and echoed as the they hit the floor. She was nervous.
I could have pictured the conversation that lead her to this point; “It would be the brake in your career!” “you’re always saying how fearless you are, now’s your chance to prove it”.
I wonder how much convincing it took to get her here.
Talking to the 'dangerous monster’ the one who’s tied to the chair.
The journalist wore a blouse. it was green.
My shirt was torn.
She rode here in a taxi.
I was dragged in.
She sat down across from me.
I was already tied and handcuffed.
She asked her first question.
“Did you have an relation to the victim”
She was the most important person in my life,
she was the one I would turn to,
she was the one I’d give my life for,
she was the only thing I cared about.
“No comment”.
The journalist blinked at me.
She pulled out a notepad.
There was a silence in the room, you could hear a pin drop,
you could feel the hatred.
“I see you are going to be incorporative” The journalist commented.
Good job, sound angry, mask your fear and act like I’m not the only chance you have to get your writing printed.
“I see You’re going to be passive aggressive”
She tapped her high heeled foot against the ground.
It’s almost funny,
She’s sitting here.
I’m tied up across from her.
She’s trapped here with me until I decided to talk.
No one is free.
No one except Kate.
The journalist cleared her throat.
“Did you have any relation to the victim- Kate Dashmen”
I winced at her name.
“N-No”
I’m not a good liar.
“How did you first meet her?”
She’s a good journalist.
“Ever been to Oxford on a Sunday?” I asked
“How is this relevant to the case?” she stated, neglecting to answer.
“…Because that’s where I met her. On a busy street. Kate wasn’t like the others…”
“How so?” Asked the journalist, not looking up from her constant scribbling.
“Katie was the only one who dropped the lighter”
The scribbling stopped.
The lighter.
“She…The… Was this the same lighter?” The journalist asks
The very same, the one thats heavy with guilt, the one she used to light her cigarettes, the one that sits in an evidence bag. The one used to take her life.
“Yes”.
There was yet another silence. The scratch of pen on paper. More silence.
“Were you close to the victim”
Yes.
“No comment”
“Did you have a motive?”
…did I have a reason to kill her?
I’ve played it out in my head a hundred times.
She had smiled, she meant no harm.
It wasn’t her fault.
She did’t want to leave.
'All things come to an end’ she had said.
She did’t want to leave.
She did’t want to leave.
She did’t wa-
“No comment”
The journalist was trapped in the visitors room with her noncompliant killer.
I was trapped in the chair with my guilt.
Kate was trapped in the room with the fire.
Kate left.
Kate left.
Kate did’t want to leave…
She had told me about her new job-
A great opportunity, in far off New York!
A good job in a real publishing office, and isn’t it great?
She did’t want to leave me.
She did’t want to stay.
She would’ve gone to New York.
A good job in a real publishing office, and isn’t it great?
Kate will never leave that room.
Kate will stay there forever.
Kate will never leave me now, I had thought as I locked the door and took out the lighter.
Kate isn’t here now.
Kate left me.
Kate is free.
Kate is still in that room.
“Do you intend to answer any of my questions?”
“No comment”
There goes her big break. She will never get her story, her chance for a good job in a real publishing office.
The journalist sighed and started to stand up.
“Don’t leave."
Mind over Matter
The shadows slumber as the sun goes down. They then wake, caressed by the darkness that is the night, the night that is now upon us.
I jumped in fright as the hollow sound echoed around the flimsy walls of the empty room. It was a mindless thing to do, jump. For the thing that haunted me was encased in its intangibility, and certainly could not be escaped by my painfully desperate attempt to ‘jump’, of all things, away from it. Despite the seconds of false, and entirely psychological, reassurance that it had provided me with, that perhaps the ever growing force of shadows would not be able to reach me if my feet were off the floor… Jumping was a mindless thing to do.
The sound rattled through the room once more. I gripped the window sill behind me as my bones turned to fluid and my thoughts turned to mush.
There was nothing else here,
…Yet the shadows refused to correspond with reason as they continued in their ever reaching stealth.
There was nothing to be afraid of.
It’s all in your head! It’s all in your head! The fleeting voice of confidence in my head chanted.
The non-existent creatures of chaos continued to refuse to be bound by the laws of what is possible.
Just calm down, there is nothing here. There is nothing here.
The room remained as it always had: The four flimsy wooden walls, the ever creaking floor… it remained empty.
There is nothing here, my mind managed to confirm.
There is nothing to fear.
There is nowhere to run.
There is nowhere to hide.
“There are things in this very room that will always haunt your nightmares…”
My concept of reality faded. Resistance was pointless.
Fear always wins… It always has…
…Yet fear made us stronger.
Perhaps there was nothing creeping here in the dark.
Perhaps there was no true reason to fear.
Perhaps my flailing grasp at courage had helped,
I would not be afraid.
I clenched my fist and took a step forward into the harmless, empty, room.
The four flimsy wooden walls stood strong, the ever creaking floor was stable… it remained empty of danger.
The sound once again rattled itself around the room, coaxing out the shadows, and all that I had feared.
I jumped back against the wall.
“Nothing is ever that simple” I muttered to myself as I watch the ever proceeding wall of shadows advance, and wished for a dawn that would never come.