Alone

Entry 1 - Tuesday, 9:39 p.m
         I hated the morgue. It always felt cold and eerie, and it reeked of death. When my Uncle was murdered I had to come identify him here. He looked like himself, except for a bruise on his eye, and a ring around his neck - from where they strangled him. He owed someone a debt, but I never found out just who that was... It was my first experience with death, and at the time I remember wishing it was my last. But then my cousin - Ernesto - got into a car crash, and my aunt - Carlotta - got shot in the head. My cousin Imogen died of natural causes, thank God.
         Yes, I hated the morgue... So how did I end up in the morgue for the third time this week? Well, you may want to have a seat.
The first time, it was for Ash. On Wednesday, Ash stopped by the deli to get some cold cuts - we were going to throw a party on Thursday. Seemed fine... Until Ash "parked" the car on a hill, not realizing it was in reverse. On Wednesday, Ash got crushed by their car, slammed into the side of an abandoned building. The cops found them, hours later, already dead. On Thursday - the day we were supposed to be celebrating - I had to go down to the morgue (alone!) and identify Ash. One of my best friends. I sobbed until Friday morning.
         Thursday evening, my friend Jeannea had a date. She shot me a text around eleven at night, telling me that she really liked the guy and, oh, his hair was dreamy... I told her he wasn't right for her. That she shouldn't be a dumb bitch and date that sleazebag. No text back. Whatever, right? Wrong. Those were the last words I said to her. Thursday evening, Jeannea sank down into her bathtub, and her curling iron - still plugged in, still on - followed suit. I got the call on Friday morning, and dragged myself out of bed to identify her. I got back home, and didn't get out of bed until Monday afternoon.
         Monday morning, Chris came to check on me. He'd been my best friend, once lover, as well. He held my hand, asked if there was anything - ANYTHING - he could do... But I wanted to be left alone. So he went. Almost. Monday morning, Chris was shot while walking to his car. A clean shot, through his head. Nearly broke his nose, as well. I got the call that afternoon, and I broke down the second I saw his pale face looking even paler than usual. His mother came in after I did and, as I walked out, I heard her scream.
         I'm not sure what's really supposed to happen when someone you love dies. All of those movies, and books, it's described as the world just... Stopping. You can't hear anything. But that wasn't what it felt like. What it felt like was worse... The world went on. People went to work, and came home - cars sped around the street, honking and looking for parking spaces. I think that's what I hate the most. That nothing stopped the way I thought it would.
         It was horrible.
         It's been hell.
         I'm not sure what to do now.
         The cops told me that they don't believe in coincidences. Neither do I. Someone is targeting my friends... The cops told me that they didn't find any solid evidence - but, honestly, I don't think they even tried. Probably looked around for a good five minutes, maybe took some pictures of a damn curtain, then stopped trying. I should've known then, that they wouldn't help me. That there'd be now way... They probably have to find a rich, white girls runaway pony first.
         So, I'll do it.
         I'll find out who killed them.
         And God help that person when I do.



Entry 2 - Wednesday, 3:06 a.m.
         I think I've finally run out of tears now. Which is good. I can focus on the task at hand - finding my friends' killer. Or killers, if that be the case. That said, I've had some time to think, and I've come up with a horrible thought. What if I'm next? How will I go? Does it matter?
If I'm correct that means I'll have to work fast. So I think I'll start at Jeannea's apartment. I won't be allowed in, of course, it's a crime scene after all. So I guess that means I'll just have to break in. No problem... In my backpack right now, I have a flashlight and a gun, along with my other things. I'll throw this Journal in, once I'm done writing - and I'll just carry my umbrella. And maybe bring some gloves.
         This is short, but I shouldn't waste any more time. I should go.
         ... I wish it would stop raining.


Entry 3 - Wednesday, 9:15 a.m.
         I'm skipping work today. I told them I couldn't bring myself to come in, which was actually partially true. I find it's always good to tell the partial truth, whenever you're going to lie. But I don't actually feel sad anymore. Just... numb. Empty, almost. Besides, I haven't slept in a day. I'm absolutely exhausted. But I can't sleep. Not yet.
         I got to Jeannea's place at about 3:45 this morning. I knew the place was a crime scene, but I still hoped that if I knocked on the door she'd answer. She'd be alive. But she wasn't. So I walked down the hall, found a window, and climbed out.
         Cliche? Yes.
         Dangerous? Check.
         But it worked.
         Ten minutes later I'd found Jeannea's apartment, picked the window lock, and slipped in. I've no idea what I was expecting, really, but the place looked just how I'd remembered it. Minus some police tape, of course... Dark red walls, small kitchen, small living room, a good sized bedroom, and an oddly big bathroom.
         The bathroom. That's where I was going to check first.
         The tub was still filled with some dirty water, and the curling iron had vanished. The window was wide open, and there was still some hair on her brush. I wanted to cry - I really did - but the tears never came... After that, I checked the bedroom with no luck. In fact, I checked the whole apartment with no luck. I remember standing at the window, watching the sunrise as I willed myself to climb back out - and down. I almost didn't trust my tired arms and brain. But I went.
         I grabbed a coffee on the way home, but I don't remember drinking it. I must've, for I don't feel as tired as I did earlier... When I got home, I sat down on the couch. I meant to turn the TV on, watch the news, but instead I just stared. I stared for a couple of hours. I guess that brings me to now, writing this.
         I don't know what else to say now. I'm... Upset. Frustrated, really. I'm no Sherlock Holmes, I know, but I thought maybe. Maybe I could find something. Anything. So I don't feel useless.
         It's no fun surviving if all your friends are dead.
         It's no fun being the one who survives, when all your friends don't.
         I've never felt guilt like this.
         But I'm not giving up, yet. I think I'll head over to the deli that Ash went to. See if anyone saw Anything. Wish me luck.


Entry 4 - Wednesday, 4:15 p.m.
         I'm not sure why I started writing in this Journal... I guess I thought I'd be able to document everything. Maybe I thought I'd get some sense of understanding or peace. I'm alone now, so maybe I just needed someone to talk to - someone who isn't another human. The thought of actually talking to someone I don't know... freaks me out. I hate that. I don't know why I did this. I can't even tell if it's helping. Anyway, I think I'm starting to ramble. That's not important, right now. What's important is what went on today at the deli.
         Gad was at the deli when I got there - he usually was, he owned the place. His real name was Tyler, so why he went with "Gad" I have no idea. I know him very well, I've been going to his deli since I moved out here. It always felt like home to me... but not today. Today it felt different. Almost depressing.
         Gad greeted me with a pastrami sandwich - on the house - and told me how sorry he was. I'm not sure how he found out, but I didn't say anything. It didn't strike me as odd... We spoke about it for a couple of minutes before I decided to ask about Ash.
         He told me he hadn't seen anything strange, really. Mentioned something about someone in a black hoodie, but he didn't see their face. Could've been anyone. He thought it was a man. He did tell me, however, that this wasn't a new thing. This hodded figure had walked through before. He apologized for not knowing more, but told me that I was free to ask any of his regulars if they'd seen anything.
         I asked around, but only one person was there that day. His name was Arno, and he gave me his number in case I needed it later. He told me that he also saw the person in a black hoodie, that they were wearing gloves, and that he thought it was a woman - due to slim fingers. I thanked him and left. But I didn't go home just yet.
         Instead I decided to check out the abandoned building... It had a small dent - from where Ash and the car hit. The door was locked, and I realized that - once more - I'd have to break in. This time, it was midday. Cars, cops, and people everywhere. I almost gave up and went home - but I pictured the three funerals I'd have to attend later, and that helped me come up with an idea.
         I walked up to a cop that was walking by, and put on my best "hysterical" act. I grabbed the cop, by her jacket, and cried as I screamed about a man that tried to mug me. She didn't flinch, but I was able to grab her badge and slip it into my sleeve. I kept crying. After a couple of minutes, she managed to "calm me down" and I pointed her in the direction of where I was supposedly almost mugged. She took off, slowly, in that direction - but not before she muttered something about "goddamn tourists." I pulled out her badge and clipped it to my pants where any passing person could see it. I wouldn't be stopped this way. Then I quickly picked the building's lock. I had maybe ten minutes before the cop realized her badge was gone.
         The building was mostly empty, save for a few boxes, some paint, and a nice big family of rats. I kicked the wall.
         Nothing.
         Again.
         I slipped my gloves on before cleaning the officer's badge as well as I could. I pulled off the gloves, I walked to the door and tried to leave. But something stopped me. A terrifying pair of eyes in the left corner. I might have screamed, but I can't remember doing so. I might have screamed, but I didn't leave. No, instead my dumbass went over to those eyes. They were wide and white, with a deep purple in the middle. They were terrifying, but beautiful - and I couldn't look away. I couldn't look away, even when I started to feel awfully cold. I slipped my gloves back on, though I wasn't aware of it. I was intrigued. But I was equally scared. When I finally pulled myself away from the Eyes, and left, it was dark out. So I must've been there for far longer than I previously thought. I threw the badge down on the ground, got in my car, and left. All the while, thinking about those Eyes.
         When I got home, I felt... weird. Sad, really, and extremely cold. And tired, but like I couldn't sleep again.
         So, here's where I am now:
         Someone - possibly female - in a black hoodie and gloves to match, was near the deli the day Ash died.
         It's not very much, I know. But it's a start - I have something! When it gets darker, I'll go out and see if I can find something near Chris's car. It's worth a shot.
         Man, I hope that officer forgets my face.
         And I'm so fucking cold.

Entry 5 - Wednesday, 8:01 p.m.
         I got a call from the cops around 7:30... At first, I was absolutely terrified that something had happened to a cousin or aunt or uncle. I almost started to cry again. Then, I thought about that cop's badge that I took today. Did she dust for fingerprints? Did she remember my face? Christ! I'd be dead. The man on the line must've sensed the fear in my voice, and he told me that no one else had turned up dead. Instead they updated me about one of the cases of my friends. I quiet sigh of relief left me. They said they checked all over Jeannea's place, and they looked for DNA and fingerprints. No fingerprints found, but some hair was found. Red hair, totally different from Jeannea's dark brown mane. They said they'd sent it to some lab to be tested, and they'd let me know the results. I thanked them and got off the phone.
         I've thought about this call for a few minutes. Maybe they're actually trying now. Maybe this hair will lead to something. Who knows?
For now, I'll wait. But, it is dark enough to check outside - see if I can find anything by Chris's car. I think I'll...
         Y'know what? Fuck that. It just hit me. I'm exhausted. I think I'll sleep.


Entry 6 - Thursday, 11:32 a.m.
         I only just woke up - around 11:00. I still feel a bit groggy, but I downed four shots of espresso a few minutes ago. Should hit me any second now... I had a text from Arno when I woke up. He sent it around 10 last night. It read:
         "Hey, it's Arno. The guy from the deli. Just wanted to see if you'd gotten anywhere, and wanted to know if you'd maybe want to grab some coffee sometime? When your ordeal is over, of course."
I haven't responded. I'm not great at talking to people face-to-face, let alone through text. I'll have to think about it for a while... Then again, it's the middle of the day. If I go out and try to look at Chris's car now, someone will see me and report me to the police. I'd have some explaining to do, and they probably wouldn't believe me. Maybe I should see if Arno wants to get coffee now?
...
         I just texted him back, and told him I was free if he wanted to get coffee this afternoon... Why the hell did I do that? How am I supposed to talk to this guy? How am I supposed to keep a conversation when I just feel like crawling into a hole? Christ, what am I going... Wait. My phone just went off. Hold on.
...
         He said he's "free this afternoon, for sure. And how does 12:30 sound?"
         And I told him I'd be there.
         I guess I just figure that if I have a friend, I won't be so alone... but what if the killer sees him? Me with him? Will Arno be killed too? I didn't really think this through very well. I should just cancel. So why can't I seem to?
         I'm going to just go, I think, and see where this takes me.


Entry 7 - Thursday, 3:00 p.m.
         I can't remember a damn thing we talked about during coffee. Nothing. I was too nervous. I'm sure I was looking down the whole time. I think he was nice, though. He seemed nice when I spoke with him at the deli. I just... Wish I was better at talking to people, y'know... I do remember ordering 2 shots of espresso. Add that to the 4 shots I had for breakfast, no wonder I feel so jittery right now. It's like I have to move, but my body just won't.
         It's getting closer to the evening, so soon I'll be able to check out Chris's car. Until then, I guess I'll write a little. Maybe watch some of the news.
         I haven't really done much since my friends started dying off. I haven't been able to force myself to do things, much as I've wanted to force myself. When Ash died, I didn't eat until Saturday. Even then, I only ate an apple. I've been doing better, kind of. I guess I realized that not eating would kill me - and I want to be alive (right now) and find out who killed my friends. That's what I keep telling myself, despite the fact that the only thing I really want to "be" right now is "dead."
I think I'll take a nap until tonight. It'll kill time, at least.


Entry 8 - Thursday, 3:30 p.m.
         So much for a nap... I think I've had too much caffeine.
         I considered going back to the deli, and maybe I'd meet someone else who had seen something on that Wednesday. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't even want to get out of my bed to write this... I also toyed with the idea of going back to Jeannea's place. Maybe I missed something. Maybe there was something there that would seriously help. It shouldn't be a crime scene anymore, and I do have Jeannea's spare key. But I didn't think that would help. I thought that, if anything, it would just depress me more. So I've ordered some Chinese food, put some tea on and decided to come back to this Journal.
         So, what's been going on these past thirty minutes? Well...
         The good news is: I haven't died yet.
         The bad news is: I haven't died yet.
         That means that whoever the killer is, they're not targeting me. That's good. But the fact that I'm the only one who got out of this alive (so far) is... devastating. I'm so angry. And the guilt I feel is so cruel, it feels like death would be merciful. I'm almost praying for it right now... I do want to find who did this first, but if I'm being honest, I'm losing motivation to find out. I don't have much to go off of.
         It has also... Wait. Tea's ready. One moment.
...
         Let me try this again:
         It has also seriously set in, now, that I'm alone. I kept a small group of friends. Never knew my parents. I was raised by my Aunt and Uncle - on who's side, I've no clue. Were they even my real relatives? - and I haven't seen them in nearly 10 years. I don't talk to half of my cousins, the other half are either dead or in jail. I have a sister, but she's been living in Japan for the last five years. I guess I could befriend a coworker, if I found the time. But the being alone thing isn't so bad, hell I've been alone before without a problem...
Being lonely, that's what I can't stand. And I'm afraid that'll happen to me soon enough. I'll lose my mind like that. I don't need to talk to anyone all day, but I need someone there. I think that's why I decided to get coffee with Arno. I thought that maybe I wouldn't be lonely if I was out with someone, near someone. And I didn't feel lonely, I don't think. I felt nervous, numb, and empty. But not lonely. Maybe that's good enough for now... Besides, I have more important things to think about than new friendships.
         I have tried so hard to think of anyone who would want to hurt or kill my friends, and I just couldn't think of anyone. Chris and Jeannea were always popular in school, and even afterwards they became good friends with coworkers. Ash wasn't popular, but they didn't have a mean bone in their body. Nobody really hated them. Nobody really hated any of them. So I tried to think of someone who hated me...
There was Maria, from back in third grade - but we were in different places in the world. There was also Hayley, an ex from sophomore year of college. But I heard she committed suicide two years ago. Other than those two, I can't think of anyone. I didn't really talk to many people, I was never mean or rude, and I don't think offended anyone. I especially don't think I offended anyone who would try to get back at me by taking out my friends.
         And I saw something strange today. I looked out a window, and I saw them again. Those awful Eyes. This time, I only stared for a moment - I swear, like 5 seconds - but I felt worse. Tired. Freezing. And I haven't been able to get warm since..... But I have more important things to worry about right now. Like whoever killed my friends.
         As for this person in a black hoodie: I've never seen them. At least, I can't remember if I have.
         Gad described them as a man - so I'm picturing Elliot Alderson.
         Arno described them as a woman - so I'm picturing Samantha Groves.
         Also, I think I watch too much TV. Anyway, food's here, so I guess I'll write later.


Entry 9 - Thursday, 10:06 p.m.
         I managed to kill some time before it got dark out. Just ate my food, watched a little television, and finally took a nap, but it seemed like torture. Speaking of, the strangest thing happened when I woke up from my nap this afternoon. I felt some pain on my thigh when I sat up, so I checked to see what it was... and there were a few cuts - looking fresh - close to the top of my right thigh. But I don't remember how they got there. I don't think I did them. I'm confused. Also, I'm starting to feel myself tear up a bit again. I thought I'd cried all my tears the other day, but I guess my body was just waiting for the right time for more tears to come. To be honest, I'm not sure why they're coming back. I'm not sad anymore (though I feel like I should be), and I'm not even angry anymore. Just numb... and curious as to who did this. I want to know.
         I don't think I want revenge anymore... I think I'm just using this "mystery" as a distraction.
         Anyway, onto what I found...
         ...Which was, essentially, nothing. Chris's car was moved away - I assume his brother or mother took it. And the place where his car was parked was pretty clean, aside from some blood on the floor. The police must've missed that. But the blood on the street brought something to my attention... Or, rather, I remembered something.
         I think I remember seeing Chris get shot. Yes. I clearly remember seeing it. But did I do anything about it? Did I scream when I saw it? Did I cry at the moment? Did I immediately pick up my phone and call the police? No. I probably just went back to sleeping... What the hell is wrong with me? I could've done something.
         I, briefly, wondered it I should tell the police what I saw. The obvious - and right - answer is yes. I should call. Like, now.... but what if they throw me in jail? I just know they'd find someway to do so. In this town, if you're not a rich white girl, you'll get arrested for seemingly nothing. They'll find something on you, somehow... So I haven't said anything. Didn't call.
         But I'm disturbed. How can I remember seeing him get shot? I was sleeping when he got shot... wasn't I? At first I thought I just dreamt it, or something like that, but I remember it far too clearly for it to be a dream. I'm freaked out, but maybe I can use this.
         Maybe this is how I can figure it out.
         Somehow.
         Did I mention I'm freezing? I haven't been warm since I first saw those Eyes. Will I ever be warm again? Jesus. What am I supposed to do?
         And those Eyes - what are they? - I can feel them on me. I can feel like someone is watching me. I'm almost too scared to look over at the corner of my room. But I know I will. I just know it. And I have no idea what will happen when I do. I'm so scared.
         And so cold...



Present Day
         "Hey, Jax, check this out," I said, shoving the papers in his general direction. "This looks like some girl's diary pages or something."
         I watched as he read over them for a few minutes, and then went back and re-read some of them. I know he was probably as freaked out as I was, though he wouldn't show it. He was never the type to do so... Then again, none of us really were.
         "This is weird. Where the hell did you find it, anyway?"
         "It was in my English textbook."
         "How do you know it's a girl? Maybe it's a dude's journal."
         "Didn't want to use the word 'diary', did you?"
         Silence. He wasn't facing me, but I could tell he was probably rolling his eyes.
         "So, what do you think happened with this person? It sounds like they went crazy or something," Jax finally spoke.
         "No clue," I answered, taking the pages back. "Do you think they went to this school, too? Or else why would the pages be in this book? Like, dude, a teacher gave me this book. Oooh, do you think it's a teacher?"
         "Mila, you're way to into this. This isn't a damn episode of Sherlock."
         "Maybe it's Ms. Varnes... Aren't you curious?"
         "Not one bit."
         "Come on, we could be detectives or something. Figure out who this is, what happened to them, what those Eyes are."
         "Mila...."
         "It beats studying for finals."
         Silence again. I thought I'd just have to look into it alone. Then, suddenly, Jax answered me.
         "Where do you think we should start?"


         It was late, so we decided to start in the morning - around my English classroom. Around 2 a.m. I tried to sleep, but it proved to be difficult. I was too busy thinking about whoever wrote those pages. Was it a boy or a girl? Someone somewhere in between? How old were they? Did they go to this school? Did they ever see the Eyes again? Were they dead? Maybe those Eyes killed them. Maybe those Eyes killed all their friends too. It all seemed so strange. All these thoughts kept me awake. I rolled over twenty times, switched positions 35 times, and even tried some jumping-jacks before getting back into bed. Nothing helped. I glanced at the clock - 3:03 a.m.
         Damn. It was going to be a long night, then.
         I rolled over again.

         "Mila," a voice whispered. I screamed, so worried that it might be the Eyes the Journal was talking about. I pulled the blanket up over my head right before I heard a tiny "What the hell?"
         Pulling the blanket back off I saw Hattie standing in my doorway, and I breathed a long sigh of relief. Hattie was standing there in a dress and heels, with some books in her hand. She closed my door before walking further into my room, and plopping the books down on my bed next to me.
         "Girl, are you alright," Hattie questioned, turning on the lights.
         "Yeah. Totally... Just thought you were... someone else," I answered, sitting up.
         "Okay, so clearly you're up - can you help me? I have an essay due at noon tomorrow, and I totally forgot about it. I didn't even read the book," Hattie started talking again.
         "Hattie..." I began.
         "Like, did anyone read it," Hattie continued like I hadn't even said anything. "Crime and Punishment, like are you kidding me? Nobody has read that... except maybe you, so I figured you can help. Please, I have no idea what the stupid book is even about. Jail, or something.... wait. Who were you expecting?"
         "What? Nobody."
         "You said you thought I was someone else."
         "Yeah. Just read something weird. That's all."
         Silence. I could tell she didn't quite believe me.
         "Hey, Mila, if someone's bothering you again..." She began again.
         "You wanna see what I read," I asked, hoping she'd just drop it.
         She nodded and I got up and grabbed the pages. I gave them to her and watched as she read them over. I couldn't tell if she really believed that I wasn't actually expecting anyone, and I certainly couldn't tell if she was freaked out by the pages of text I'd handed her. I waited patiently until she was finished reading them. She handed them back to me, and was silent for a few moments.
         "What is this? No, better question is who wrote this," She asked, quietly.
         "No idea," I answered. "I found them in my English textbook. Jax and I are going to try and figure out who wrote them, and when. We figured we'd search my English classroom tomorrow morning."
         "Who's your professor?"
         "Varnes."
         "Oh, she's there first thing in the morning - and she doesn't leave until lunch. Maybe you should go after hours, so you don't risk getting caught."
         "Like, now? I should go now?"
         "It's dark, but it would be the safest time. Don't need any teachers chewing you out."
         "Are you... interested? Do you want to help," I asked her.
         "Maybe. But these Eyes," Hattie answered. "Are they even real? The girl in the story went through a lot - maybe she started hallucinating or something."
         "You think it's a girl too? I can't wait to rub this in Jax's face," I stood up and started to get dressed. "Speaking of, we should probably go wake him up."

         I finished getting dressed and grabbed a small backpack, throwing in a few things. The contents included: a flashlight, my phone, a small notebook, a knife and a couple of bobby pins. I figured I might be able to pick the lock if the door isn't open. I flung the backpack over my shoulder and walked out to find Hattie standing in the hallway with Jax - who was already awake, but didn't really look happy about it.

         "I thought we were doing this tomorrow morning," Jax yawned.
         "Yeah, change of plans," I said, as we started to walk. We walked the rest of the way in silence. It was a short walk, maybe 6 minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. I wasn't used to the quiet, but nobody felt like talking - and we didn't really want to draw any attention to ourselves anyway. During the walk, it occurred to me that I had no idea what we were going to be looking for. Should we look in other books? In the professor's desk? The shelves? I guess we'd have to look everywhere. I clicked on my phone, checking the time. 3:25 a.m. So we had about 3 and 1/2 hours before teachers and staff started walking in. That should be enough time.
         I was broken out of my thoughts when we reached the classroom. The door was locked.
         I got on one knee, pulled out the bobby pins, and got to work unlocking the door. I heard Jax quietly murmur a "how do you even know how to do that." I didn't know how to tell him that I only learned because I wanted to be Black Widow when I was a kid... a minute later, I had the door open. We decided to keep the lights off, save for a desk lamp, so that nobody would really see us in there. Jax took the professor's desk, Hattie and I looked through the bookshelves. We picked up books, flipped through them, shook them out. We did this for what felt like days, though a time check told us it had only been 40 minutes. We found nothing, though. I was just about to give up when I heard Jax gasp.

         "What? What happened," Hattie called back. "Did you find anything?"
         "N-no," a shaky voice answered back. "I was just startled, that's all. Sorry... I'll keep looking."