Ativan. Ativan is amazing.
I tried to start writing the last entry and then...well, you saw. I called Kevin and hit post while I was on the phone, sorry.
I've been at Kevin's since then. It was safe to tell him about H. He said he'd come with me to the police station tomorrow. They need to take down my account of what happened with Daniel anyway, so I might as well tell them about the call then. I'm glad Kevin's with me now.
...I'm avoiding this, aren't I.
I was doing dishes and heard my phone ring, noticed that it was an unlisted number, and picked it up. I'll do my best to provide a transcript, but after a certain point I was freaking out too much to pay attention, so it'll be only an approximation.
Woman with a light Southern accent, she sounds middle-aged: Hello darling, how are you doing today?
Me: Um, who is this?
H. (because this is her, of course): Oh, of course, you wouldn't have recognized me. I'm your dear friend in Marietta.
Me: I think you've got the wrong number...
H: Well how about that. I could've sworn you were Jill's little friend Shining-
I almost drop the phone
H: Ah, yes, it is you, isn't it dear? I was worried for a minute that you wouldn't pick up.
Me (breathless, almost crying): What do you want?
H: I just wanted to pass along my condolences to Daniel. The Lord has abandoned him to his failure.
Me (babbling, and I'm not sure if I actually said this): Okay I'll pass it along.
H: Oh, you are just too sweet. I wish I could tell him in person, but...well, these old bones just don't handle travel like they used to. Did you get my letter, sweetie?
Me: (some noise or other- I'm now crouching on the floor, hyperventilating)
H: I'll take that as a yes. Well, that's good to know. The Lord is coming to you, dear. You'd better get your affairs in order, and quickly, because He is coming to take you into His arms.
Me (shouting): It's not God!
H (angry): Don't you dare take that tone when you speak of Him! (and then she starts talking about how the monster actually is God or something, I started crying at this point and stopped listening. About a minute in, I realize she's not talking anymore, waiting for me to stop crying.) Are you finished, sweetie?
Me: Just leave me alone...
H (sounding genuinely hurt): Now why would you say such a hurtful thing? I know we've never met, but from what Jill told me about you, you're a very sweet girl. There's no need to act so rude.
Me (whispering): You don't get to talk about Jill.
H: What was that, dear? You'll have to speak up.
Me (crying again): You don't get to talk about her, you evil bitch.
H: Well! If we're going to be calling names, then I'm going to get off the phone. You let me know when you're ready to talk like civilized people. I'll be around.
(she hangs up)
I was curled up in a ball for half an hour, and then tried to post the previous entry, which...well, you see what happened.
I'll tell you tomorrow what happens at the police station. Maybe Officer Clinton can get a trace on my phone somehow, or something. Maybe he can figure out how H. got my number but still doesn't seem to know my name. Maybe he can figure out some way to keep me safe.
She didn't even threaten me, and I was collapsed on the floor. What the hell can I do if things get worse?