49. Emails

They look like emails, copied and pasted into a document.

As Mr. Nivel drones on about something that I’m assuming has to do with Algebra II, I carefully slip out the first page and read it. It’s not addressed to anybody, nor is there a name at the bottom. But it doesn’t take me long to figure out that this must be an email to my uncle rather than one he sent.

THIS IS AN ACCOUNT THAT NOBODY KNOWS AND THE ONLY WAY I’LL BE ABLE TO COMMUNICATE. THEY CAN SEE WHO CALLS WHOM, WHO EMAILS WHOM, WHO TALKS TO WHOM. I DON’T KNOW HOW, BUT THEY KNOW. AND THEY SILENCE THOSE WHO TALK.

HE SAYS HE CAN’T DO ANYTHING ABOUT YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE SPECIAL. OTHERWISE THEY WOULD. BUT IT’S A CHOICE—IT’S YOUR CHOICE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. DO YOU?

ALL I KNOW IS THAT THE MAN I THOUGHT I FELL IN LOVE WITH AND MARRIED IS NOT THE SAME MAN. SOMETHING HAPPENED. SOMETHING OUT THERE IN THE DARKNESS. IT’S AS IF HE WENT OUT INTO THE WOODS AND CAME BACK A DIFFERENT PERSON.

I HAVEN’T SEEN HIM DO SOME OF THE THINGS I’M IMAGINING, BUT I FEEL IT. I JUST—I JUST HAVE THIS IDEA. THAT’S WHY I CAME TO YOU. I THOUGHT YOU NEEDED TO KNOW. I CAN GET IN TROUBLE FOR SAYING THESE THINGS. BOTH OF US CAN. BUT YOU NEED TO KNOW THE TRUTH.

I’LL TELL YOU ANYTHING I FIND OUT. I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO EMAIL YOU FROM THIS ACCOUNT. IF NOT, THERE HAS TO BE ANOTHER WAY TO COMMUNICATE. I’LL LET YOU KNOW. SOON.

I slip the page back into the folder and then realize I can’t keep reading these here. If I’m caught and this ends up in the hands of the wrong person, something bad might happen.

You don’t know who it’s from or who it’s for.

But I would guess that it’s from Heidi Marsh, the wife of the pastor.

Jared was right. He keeps being right.

I decide to read the rest of the emails later tonight. And then try and contact Jared to share them with him.

The rest of the day I just get stares.

Including from my former art friend.

I’m so distracted and disjointed from the lunch incident and the emails that I forget to do the obvious. It takes me about fifteen minutes to finally tell a silent Kelsey thanks for the card.

She nods.

“It was really nice.”

“Yeah, sure.” She doesn’t say anything else.

And you know, I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t say anything to me either. I’d stay far away. And I want her to stay far away. I belong on a salad bar with various ingredients that people pick from and pick at every day. Nothing that will amount to a hearty meal.

A few times I’m about to say something. A wisecrack. A comment on my shirt and messy hair. A statement that shows I have a pulse and a soul.

But I say nothing.

Nothing at all.

And the bell rings and Kelsey goes, and I figure it’s probably better this way.

I see Gus by his locker at the end of the day.

“Love the shirt, Chris. It really fits you.”

I want to say more. Do more.

But I remember Mr. Meiners’ reaction, his jerking of my hand and his yelling at me.

Mind your own business.

I want him to see me like this, a portrait of me minding my business.

I just walk away from Gus, doing what Mr. Meiners says even though he’s not around to see me doing it.

I feel a little more alone tonight. I used to be fine with this. I used to not even think about whether I felt alone or not. I could lose myself in hours of video games or watching television. If I really had nothing to do I could go online and see what people were posting on Facebook. But tonight I have things to do. Homework, of course—the given in every high schooler’s life. But I’m talking about things to read.

Maybe that’s why I feel so alone. Because I’d like someone to be here when I’m reading them.

Mom is working (of course) and Midnight is sleeping (of course). I’ve been putting it off even though it’s all I can think about.

I can hear the wind picking up and know that snow is coming. Just a sprinkling, nothing major, just enough to remind a person to stay inside.

I open the folder and pick up where I stopped, with the next printed-off email that only has the text and no addresses.

IT WASN’T ALWAYS LIKE THIS. I’VE STRUGGLED TO BE THE GOOD WIFE, TO KEEP MY VOWS. WE MET IN CAMBRIDGE WHERE HE WAS STUDYING AT HARVARD DIVINITY SCHOOL. ALL I CAN SAY ABOUT THAT TIME—ABOUT THAT YEAR AND A HALF WE DATED—WAS THAT IT WAS MAGICAL. HE WAS MAGICAL. HE WANTED TO CHANGE THE WORLD, AND I WANTED TO BE AT HIS SIDE. I REALLY FELT LIKE HE LOVED ME. MAYBE HE DID. I DON’T KNOW. I DON’T KNOW MUCH NOW.

THE ONLY REASON I’M SHARING THIS IS BECAUSE I’M SCARED. AND I THINK YOU NEED TO KNOW. I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO, AND THE FEW PEOPLE I’VE REACHED OUT TO HAVE CLOSED THE DOOR COMPLETELY. PEOPLE LIKE SHERIFF WELLS, LIKE GRETTA, LIKE SOME OF THE CHURCH PEOPLE. THEY IGNORE WHAT I SAY AND JUST KEEP GOING. I NEED SOMEONE TO KNOW.

IT ALL STARTED WHEN WE MOVED BACK HERE FIVE YEARS AGO. I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND WHY SOMEONE WHO COULD GO ANYWHERE WOULD CHOOSE TO COME BACK HERE. HE SAID THAT IT WAS ABOUT GOING BACK TO HIS CHILDHOOD HOME AND STARTING FRESH AND BUILDING SOMETHING TREMENDOUS. I WAS WILLING TO GO BECAUSE HE SAID THAT IT WAS WHERE GOD WANTED HIM TO BE.

I FEAR THAT THE GOD HE WAS TALKING ABOUT ISN’T THE SAME GOD THAT I KNOW AND BELIEVE IN.

EVERYTHING CHANGED FROM THE START. EVERYTHING. BUT I FIGURED IT WAS ALL ABOUT GETTING THE NEW BEGINNINGS CHURCH OFF THE GROUND. BEFORE WE CAME, THERE WERE NO CHURCHES. THERE WERE THE UNDERGROUND CHURCHES, OF COURSE. I WOULD COME TO DISCOVER THEM LATER ON, AS YOU DID. BUT THERE WAS NO OFFICIAL CHURCH. NOTHING. AND THAT WAS THE CREEPIEST THING TO ME ABOUT SOLITARY. HERE WE WERE IN THE HEART OF THE SO-CALLED BIBLE BELT, BUT THERE WASN’T A CHURCH AROUND. BUT HE WOULD ALWAYS SAY THAT WAS WHY HE WANTED TO START ONE, WHY HE DEEMED IT A NEW BEGINNING.

BUT FOR US, IT WAS THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

I NEED TO GO—THAT’S ENOUGH FOR NOW.

PLEASE DELETE THIS AND MAKE SURE NOBODY SEES IT. WE CAN’T TALK ABOUT IT—EVEN AT CHURCH. NOT NOW.

SEE YOU SOON.

I put down the email and then shuffle through the pages. There’s a whole book here, almost. This is going to tell me everything.

Never once in the two emails I’ve read does the woman mention a name. But there’s no question she’s talking about Pastor Jeremiah Marsh.

I go to the next one and begin reading.

And I keep reading for the next two hours.

I learn a lot of random bits of information about the town itself, about Heidi Marsh and how terrified she was, about the church. But several key things stick out.

The first is that as the New Beginnings Church grew larger, the pastor and his wife grew apart. She refers to the “baby issue,” which makes me think they were trying to have one but couldn’t. She never gets specific. Heidi mentions that she kept seeing less and less of her husband and felt alone and isolated in this place.

But I remember the pastor talking about his little girl the first time I heard him preach.

Then strange things started happening. She calls these “the visions.” Again, she doesn’t get too specific. The few people she spoke to about them, including her husband, didn’t do anything. Just called it stress and told her to keep taking pills.

The seventh email is a big one.

THEN CAME FINN. I DON’T REMEMBER HIS LAST NAME. I’VE TRIED NOT TO THINK ABOUT HIM. BUT ALL I KNOW IS THAT HE WAS THE START OF SOMETHING BLACK AND HEINOUS AND THE REASON WHY THIS PLACE AND THESE PEOPLE NEED TO BE EXPOSED.

FINN AND HIS FATHER CAME TO OUR CHURCH. HIS CHURCH, I SHOULD SAY. I NEVER KNEW WHAT HAPPENED TO FINN’S MOTHER, IF THERE WAS A MOTHER.

FINN WAS SIXTEEN YEARS OLD, A GOOD-LOOKING BOY. A NICE BOY.

MY HUSBAND TOOK A VERY PARTICULAR INTEREST IN HIM.

THIS TROUBLED ME FOR MANY REASONS.

I SAW THE TINY BIT OF FAME THAT MY HUSBAND WAS GAINING START GOING TO HIS HEAD. I BEGAN TO SEE HIM HAVE THIS POWER OVER THE PEOPLE. IT DISTURBED ME. THOSE WHO DIDN’T REVERE HIM ALMOST SEEMED FEARFUL OF HIM. INCLUDING ME.

OF COURSE, ONE OF THE MOST TROUBLING THINGS WAS HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH STAUNCH. I WASN’T ALLOWED IN THEIR CLIQUE OR THEIR WORLD. I THOUGHT “BOYS WILL BE BOYS,” BUT IT WAS MORE THAN THAT.

THEN THIS FIXATION ON FINN.

AND THEN—THEN EVERYTHING STARTED TO COME TO A NASTY HEAD.

HE STARTED TO DO THINGS TO ME THAT I DIDN’T WANT HIM TO. HE HAD CHANGED. HE WALKED AND TALKED LIKE A TORMENTED, POSSESSED MAN. THIS WAS AROUND THE END OF THE YEAR, AND I JUST KNEW SOMETHING BIG WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

THEN FINN DISAPPEARED. AND THE REST OF THE CHURCH—THE REST OF THE TOWN—WENT ON AS NORMAL. I COULDN’T—I STILL CAN’T—BELIEVE IT. EVERYBODY ELSE I TRIED TO TALK TO SHUT ME DOWN. HE PUSHED ME FURTHER AWAY. AND HE CONTINUED TO HURT ME. I KNOW HE DID SOMETHING TO FINN. AND TO THE OTHERS. AND I’M AFRAID THIS IS GOING TO CONTINUE. WE HAVE TO DO SOMETHING.

I put the email down and feel my body trembling. I’m not cold. I’m terrified. I’m about to grab Midnight and put her on my lap when the door swings open, and I spring up, clasping the folder in my hand.

“You’re still up?” Mom asks, dusting off the light sprinkles on her coat.

I’m needing CPR, but I keep my mouth shut and just nod in a nonchalant way.

She looks wide-eyed and tired at the same time. She probably shouldn’t be driving. But that means she won’t notice the white ghost that’s her son.

“I’m going to change,” Mom tells me. “Are you hungry?”

As a matter of fact, I am. I could eat a boar.

I guess fear does that to you.

Learning something new every day.