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I’m in the room. Amelia’s room.
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The cell. It’s not padded anymore, since we tore down all the cushions on the walls. But it is small and dark and locked.
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Writing on my phone, which keeps glitching up, so who knows if this will work. But I have to do something, have to record this somehow.
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Maybe it’s stupid to use my phone to make a journal entry right now. Maybe I should use it to call the police and get me the hell out of here. But what good would that do? So I could trade one cell for another? A jail cell. Or if everyone decides I’m as nuts as I seem to be, maybe I could upgrade to a cell that still has its padding. And a nice straitjacket to go with it.
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Hardly sounds like an improvement.
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I need to back up and explain how I got here.
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I went downstairs to make coffee, still emotionally overwhelmed and mentally fried from exhaustion and worry about Logan. I picked up the pot and ran it under the tap for a second before I noticed something weird. There was something in the coffeepot.
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A letter.
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Why would a letter be in the coffeepot? Well, why not? After everything else that’s gone on in this house, why the fuck not?
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I turned off the water. My fingers trembling, I pulled the letter from the pot, opened it, and started to read. Tried to read. All the words were blacked out—every single one. You could tell how long each word was, more or less, but that’s it. They were all scratched out to invisibility.
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Something else I noticed: bloody fingerprints in the margins, bright red and smeary.
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I don’t know how long I stood there, staring down at the letter in my hands in blank confusion, before I was brought back to myself by a voice.
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“You tried to destroy them, didn’t you?”
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I looked up. Professor Verano was standing in the doorway to the house, leaning hard against his cane, his face twisted in fury. I couldn’t answer him at first, so he stepped inside and walked slowly forward to meet me in the kitchen, limping heavily.
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He stopped a couple of steps away from me.
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“I told you not to,” he said, his voice shaking with barely suppressed rage, “but you did it anyway. You tried to destroy the letters.”
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I looked down at the letter in my hand, then back up at his face. “We did destroy them,” I said. “We had a bonfire. We threw them all in. Every one.”
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“Then explain this.” Verano reached into his coat and pulled out a sheaf of letters, which he thrust toward me. Not just any letters—old, yellowed. Curled around the edges. Unmistakably the Pronoica letters.
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“You saved some,” I said. “You stole them from the trunk and took them with you, and then you broke in here and planted this here to freak me out.”
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Verano smiled grimly and shook his head. “I didn’t save anything. I trusted you. I trusted Raph. Trusted him to follow my instructions and not do anything rash. Then these turned up under my pillow this morning. Another one was in the umbrella stand. Five more in the glove compartment of my car. They’re probably all over town by now,” he said. He looked at me sharply, intently, his cold eyes cutting right through me. “You should have listened to me,” he said, his voice quiet but laced with menace. He took a step forward. “I did warn you. You can’t eradicate something like this, you can only repress it. But the repressed object will always, inevitably return.”
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I backed away from him until I hit the counter. There was something unsettling about the way he was looking at me, but I couldn’t figure out what it meant. Something was distracting me. A noise, like screaming. Shrieking. That sound from Logan’s room, the sound of someone wailing in agony.
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“It doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “It was supposed to be all over. It was supposed to be better now.”
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Verano turned toward the sound of footsteps clomping down the stairs, and a moment later, Arthur came into view, and he let out a cry as he reached the kitchen. I’d never seen him like this before. Good, kind, sensible Arthur was advancing toward me like a madman. Sweat was pouring from his face, and he was also holding a towel to his side, a large red splotch darkening and spreading through the terry cloth. A second later, my mom appeared, her face red and tear streaked. She threw herself at Arthur, tugging him back with clawlike fingers.
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“Don’t,” she wailed. “Don’t touch her.”
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“Mom?” I said, struggling to pull the information gathered by my senses into any coherent order. “What’s going on? How is Logan? Is he awake yet?”
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Mom didn’t answer, but her face crumpled into desperate sobs before my eyes, and she continued to wrestle wordlessly with Arthur. Only then did I realize that Chloe was in the kitchen too. Her face was paler than usual, but otherwise she seemed almost eerily impassive next to Mom and Arthur.
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“Logan’s dead,” she said flatly.
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I was speechless for a moment. Mom and Arthur also froze at her words, looking at me with strange fear on their faces. I looked to them desperately, waiting for them to say something, to contradict her, to call her way out of line for joking about something like that. But they didn’t.
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“No,” I said. “No, I saved his life, I sat with him, I did all the things you’re supposed to.” But still they didn’t answer. Into the silence that had descended on the kitchen, Arthur let out another roar and lunged for me again. He winced in pain as Mom held him back by his shoulder.
“What happened?” I said, my voice coming out broken and raw. “What happened?” I repeated more loudly when no one answered.
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That’s when things started to come together. Pieces of the puzzle attaching themselves to one another in my mind. “It has something to do with the house, doesn’t it? Amelia. The letters. The evil that’s locked in this place. Something got to him.” I looked around and for the first time, noticed something missing. “Where is Raph?” I clapped a hand to my mouth as realization overtook me. “No,” I said. “No, it can’t . . . Dr. Clyde was right. She warned me. She told me Raph was dangerous. Told me I should stay away from him. But it was too late. His experiments . . . all that good luck he thought he was buying, but it was only borrowed. He tried to cover his mistake by burning those letters, but instead he awakened something. Unleashed some power, some uncontrollable force—”
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Finally Chloe’s calm, hard voice broke through my babbling.
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“You really don’t remember?”
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I swallowed. “Remember what?”
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Chloe took the last few steps into the kitchen and approached me, stepping around Arthur. “It’s not Raph,” she said slowly. “It’s you. It’s been you all along. You’re the one who disturbed the spirits . . . They had always been here, resting fitfully, waiting for someone to come along and awaken them. Someone whose cryptic power had been concentrated through many generations. Someone with a force that resonated with theirs. A conductor of dark energy.
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“You never guessed? I knew . . . almost since I met you. I couldn’t believe that you didn’t know yourself. And your mom . . .” Chloe turned toward her. “You must have seen the signs. But then, a mother’s love. You wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it.”
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“What the hell is she talking about?” I said. Mom let out another wail.
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Verano turned to Arthur. “I think it’s time we call the police.”
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“No,” said Mom fiercely. She turned on Verano with a vicious expression on her face. “I won’t let you. You know what will happen if you do. They’ll take her. I’ve lost one baby already today. I won’t let them take the other.”
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“We can’t just let her alone,” gritted Arthur through clenched teeth. It was eerie to have them discuss me like that, right in front of me. I could almost believe they were talking about someone else. “She’s dangerous. She’s a danger to herself, and to all of us.”
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“I am?” I said. “No, you don’t understand. It was Raph. He was the one who brought all this into the house. The one who awoke the spirits.”
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“Raph may have had some part in it,” said Verano, “but he didn’t deserve . . .” Verano’s face darkened with violent emotion, and he couldn’t go on.
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“I don’t understand,” I said. “Where is he? Where is Raph?”
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“Dead,” said Verano.
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This was a dream. This had to be a horrible dream. “Raph and Logan? How can that be?”
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“Paige,” said Chloe, “look at yourself.”
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So I did. I still clenched that mysterious letter . . . . My hands, my arms, my clothes were all drenched in blood.
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“I can’t lose them both,” Mom was repeating to herself, almost like a chant, while I tried to make sense of the information I was absorbing. “She wasn’t in her right mind when she killed them,” she said. “It’s not her fault. I have to protect her.”
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“Arthur is right. If we leave her be, she’ll kill again,” said Verano.
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“Then lock her in the room,” said Chloe. “Amelia’s room. She’ll be safe there. We’ll all be safe.”
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And so here I am. I went quietly, after all that. What was the point in resisting? I could see the truth in what they said. If it’s true—that I snuck down into Raph’s apartment last night and stabbed him in his sleep, then came back upstairs and strangled Logan—how can I argue with their decision? I’m a menace. Dr. Clyde was right all along. I just couldn’t let myself see what she was trying to tell me. She kept telling me that the house was a distraction. That my worry for Logan was a kind of deflection. That I should focus on myself. I thought she was telling me to stay away from Raph because he was dangerous, but no. It was *me*. Raph kept telling me there was a danger in us hanging out together. I was so blind. So sure that he meant he was a danger to me, which I didn’t believe, because I couldn’t imagine him ever being a danger to anyone. And he wasn’t. I was.
failure sickness misery, the absent flesh of the devil is the finite result of all our gifts.
And my mom’s stories of the mysticism of our ancestors . . . I pushed them away for so many years because they contained a truth I wasn’t ready to accept. This year, when I finally started to listen, I still only heard what I wanted to. That we were on the side of good, that everyone who saw darkness in us was prejudiced and ignorant. But Chloe saw it. This house was restless before we came, but I’m the one who woke it up. Who acted as a conduit for all the bad history sitting here. As long as I’m here, I’m only making it worse.
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But what do I do? What do I do now? How can I end it all? There has to be a way.